


Let The Star Lead The Way

by Lady_of_Starlight



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-14 02:15:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 53,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14125938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_Starlight/pseuds/Lady_of_Starlight
Summary: Despite its isolation, even the realm of the wood-elves cannot escape the darkness that is now spreading over all of Middle-earth.While fighting the shadows, king Thranduil must face his past as he meets someone who threatens to steal his wounded heart.(Follows the timeline of the Lord of the Rings)





	1. The Mirror

 

 

 

You’re walking through the halls in the woods, disturbed by the images inside your head. It’s all a mess of which you can’t separate out anything clear.

  
Everyone else is sleeping, except for the few guards that are patrolling around the borders. You have gotten past them a few times without being noticed, but you’re not going far this time. You just slip in the shadows and try to make sense of the turmoil inside your head, the reason why you woke up in the first place.

The images have never been bothering you as much as they do now. They’re calling you in your sleep, demanding to be seen. Yet they refuse to show anything that’d actually make sense. Though, the heavy feeling inside your chest is clear. Your messy images are warning of a danger, and that danger surely lies somewhere outside the borders of Lothlórien.

“Why so restless, child?”  
  
You turn your head to see Lady Galadriel stepping out from behind one of the trees, followed with the slight glow she carries with her. You bow your head slightly.

“Just feeling disturbed by my dreams, Lady Galadriel.”

She walks to you, barefoot, as always.

“What do your dreams show to you?”

“I cannot tell. They are not clear, only shadows of their true forms. Yet they still feel to be warning me of something to come.”

She turns her head a little, studying your face. Then, she gives a small, mysterious smile and says something that surprises you.

“Would you like to look into The Mirror?”

Lady Galadriel’s Mirror is a powerful tool, and not for everyone to use. Overall, you’re surprised for not getting reprimands of walking around on your own at this late hour.

“…The Mirror, My Lady? It would be an honor, but…" You don’t even know why you are feeling so doubtful about it.

"I see you fear. Fear the things you might see. The possibility of having those dark images cleared in front of your eyes. It is a frightening thought.”

You don’t know what to answer, so you just nod in agreement. Of course, she knows your feelings even better than you self do.

Lady Galadriel smiles again and turns slowly on her heels.

“Follow me.”

You walk after her as she guides you past the guards, towards one of the biggest trees. She walks down the staircase following the edge of the tree and its great roots above the ground, making no sound within her steps. You follow her as silently as a shadow.

The Mirror lies on a pillar carved in stone, in the middle of the space the great roots create between them. Lady Galadriel steps to it, gently touching the side of the decorated vessel recessed into the stone, careful to not to touch the water inside it.

“Come.”

You walk slowly to her, refusing to glance at the still water surface.

You know what you might see. Things that were. Things that are. Things that are yet to come. Some things that are seen in The Mirror have never come true. But it might be that they would’ve, if something wasn’t done to prevent them.  
It takes skill to understand the things it shows you. Although, anything clearer than the blur of your dreams is a step to the better direction. At least you hope for it.

Your eyes meet Lady Galadriel’s and she nods slightly, encouraging you. You take a deep breath, and turn your eyes down to The Mirror.

First, you can see your own face reflected from the bottom of the silver vessel. Your long hair falling around your face, your glowing eyes, the pointy ears.

Then, the water turns opaque, and you see nothing.

Except..

A faint light spreads from the center, and you’re seeing a view of a landscape unfamiliar to you. Giant trees, as big as the trees of Lothlórien, just different kind, rise above the reach of your sight.

Everything is on fire.

You hear slight sounds, like coming from far away. Metal gritting against metal, shouts that you recognize to be elvish, and dark figures falling down roaring under the flying arrows…

Then, your focus turns to something pale and bright flashing in the middle of the red fire and dark shadows. Swords, glimmering under rapid moves as the dark creatures fall in front of a tall, majestic elf. Long, bright hair swirls around him as he slices the figures that are trying to reach his flesh.

He turns around so that you get to see his face. Pale blue eyes, beneath the delicate silver crown which now reflects the reddish glow of the burning trees, stare directly at you.

A glimpse of recognition in them. And a sudden ache in your chest.

His eyes widen as he attempts to shout something, but he’s cut short when a mass of the same dark figures emerge once again behind him, taking advantage of his distraction.

 His eyes are torn away from you as he turns around to face the attack. You let out an involuntary scream when you see a sword cutting his left arm, spilling blood over his silver-carved armor.

The attacker is already sliced in half, but next one is coming straight after it, throwing away the sword He was holding in his wounded hand. He’s fighting them off with unbelievable strength, but he can’t last forever without help. You know it.

 A taller, even darker figure rises from the shadows behind his back, trying to get to him as he’s occupied with the other attackers. You see it approaching and scream out, reaching for him…

_“À PUSTA!”_

Lady Galadriel yells and grabs your wrist as you’re about to touch the surface.

Too late.

Your fingertip touches the water, and a pang of power bursts through you, shaking you body. A thousand different feelings pulse through you, making it almost unbearable to stand. Images are flashing before your eyes, too quickly for you to recognize any of them.

Then you’re pulled away and find yourself laying on the ground, Lady Galadriel next to you, watching you with both worrying and upbraiding eyes.

You’re still shaking, and only manage to whisper out a single word.

_“Mirkwood.”_


	2. Journey to Mirkwood

 

 

You are frightened by the vision. Your heart feels to be pounding its way through your chest, while your eyes still feel blurry.

“We have to do something.. Just anything, they’re dying!”

“Calm down, child, calm down.”

You force yourself to draw breath as Lady Galadriel kneels next to you. She lifts a strand of hair away from your face, her expression sad and cautious.

“The scene of the vision you just saw has not yet come to pass. But it will, depending on how you shall react to it.”

This information should probably make you feel better, but it doesn’t.

“What can I do? Please, Lady Galadriel, there must be something I can do….”

For a moment she looks thoughtfully to the distance. Then, she turns back to you.

“The best way to act now is to send you to the Halls of the Woodland Realm.”

“Warn their Kind of the vision you just saw, but do tell him that it was a vision of mine, not yours.”

“Why?”

She gives a half of a smirk, and replies:

“Their King can be rather stubborn at times. He does not take these things lightly, but would still be suspicious of you getting warnings of things that are endangering  _his_  realm where  _you_  have never stepped your foot into. It is easier for everyone that the vision is stated to be mine.”

You agree. It sounds much better anyway than the thought of you rushing to their halls and trying to make them believe you. If it is said to be Lady Galadriel’s vision, they’ll probably take it more seriously.

She smiles kindly to you, and leans closer.

“Listen to my words now. It is not wise to rush straight away in the night as you so often like to do.”

You feel your cheeks growing warm. Of course, with her abilities it shouldn’t be a surprise she knows about your little trips outside the borders.

She smiles as she hears your thoughts, and continues.

“I wish you to wait until the morning. It is not safe to wander alone outside our realms anymore. I will send a few of the guards to come with you. It is better that you pack light and ride fast.”

“And… What then, after I’ve brought them my message?”

Lady Galadriel hesitates for a slight moment before answering.

“It might be best if you stayed in the Halls of the Woodland Realm for some time.”

“I do not understand.”

She rises to her feet, watching at the night sky filled with stars. You rise with her, cleaning up some fallen leaves from your gown.

“Something is on the move, the evil we all once knew. It’s growing stronger. I have seen glimpses of things that are coming, and they are not good. Even Lothlórien might be forced to face the power of this evil aswell..”

“So, there is no place that would be really safe anymore”, you finish for her, feeling a cold shiver running down your back.

“Exactly. And, considering the place where the evil has made its nest in the south east, Woodland Realm lays further away from it. I hope it will stay safe, although your vision tries to tell differently.”

She takes a last glance at the sky, sighs, and turns to you.

“Go, sleep now. You must leave early at dawn. I also need to try to clear up my own visions. There is something bothering me, approaching somewhere from the west.”

“Is it something dangerous?”

“I can not tell. But I feel I might have a test of will ahead of me very soon…”

She looks at The Mirror, its surface now being still and glass-like.

You’d like to know more about this “test” she’s speaking of, but decide to leave it. You have a lot of things to take care of. You bow your head again and leave.

In the morning, you’ve gathered the things you’ll need during the travel to Mirkwood. Two elven guards, Edraith and Tharon, are set to protect you during the journey. You take your horses and ride to the borders of Lothlórien, where you take a last glance behind you.

It’s not that you wouldn’t had been outside the borders before. You’ve got a lot of experience of wandering alone outside the realm. But this journey would take you farther than you have ever been. The thought is actually quite frightening.

Finally, you turn away to face the beginning of your path.

“Let’s go.”

 

__✽ ✽ ✽  
_ _

 

You travel fast for days, finally reaching the elven path and continuing towards the King’s Halls lying somewhere ahead of you. From time to time, Edraith and Tharon are trying to light up a conversation. As far as they know, the vision of Lady Galadriel is the reason they’ve been sent to this journey, but they do not know exactly what the vision was all about. So they try to ask details of it from you.

“For the last time, Tharon, I am not allowed to speak about it before we are in front of the King himself.”

“And why is that? As far as I know there’s no one in here to hear your words, except for us.”

You don’t answer, because something in the darkness of the trees is bothering you deeply. All more reason to stay quiet about the vision.

Finally, you are close to the gates of the Woodland Realm, they’re hidden from your sight but still laying near ahead. You start to have a feeling in your gut that something isn’t right.

Tharon and Edraith are sensing it too.

“Where are the guards? We should have met some by now –”

At that moment you hear a roar coming from somewhere ahead of you. Tharon draws his great sword, carved with elvish, while Edraith rides his horse next to yours, demanding you to come to sit in front of him on his horse.

“My Lady, that’s the best way for me to keep you safe!”

“Thank you, Edraith, but I am fully capable of defending myself”, you answer hastily as you draw out your own sword, its blade glimmering in the last rays of sunlight.

“But, My Lady–!”

“ _EDRAITH!_ ”

He turns his horse around just in time to see an orc attacking from above and fires the arrow he had already set ready for shooting. He hits the orc straight in the throat. The heavy, now lifeless body falls straight on you two, scaring Edraith’s horse and causing him to fall. He rolls on his side without a scratch when more orcs appear behind the trees.

Edraith keeps shooting arrows while Tharon swings around you with his sword, making it more difficult for you to do anything for your own defense.

One of the orcs has a bow, but your defenders are too busy noticing it. You scream out as the orc takes out an arrow and bends the bow, ready to shoot Edraith who is soon running out of his arrows.

You do the only thing that comes into your mind:

As Tharon moves away from between you and the orc, you throw your sword at the orc, aiming it directly at its chest. It sinks in with a sick thud and the orc falls.

At that same moment your horse rises on two feet and throws you from its back. You barely manage to turn around in the air and land on your feet. Tharon tries to drag you on his horse, but soon sees it to be hopeless for his horse is too scared aswell and about to throw him from its back. He jumps down to you.

“Take this and RUN, we’ll come after you!” Tharon draws out a dagger and shoves it to you.

“I’m not going anywhere!”

“ _DREGO!_ ”

You hear Edraith’s shout and turn around. More orcs appear behind you, and you know there’s no way you three could hold them off.

“GO!”

Tharon jumps forward and slices two orcs at once while Edraith takes out two short swords and follows him. Finally, you turn around and run.

You run along the path but turn away from it when you see orcs approaching. You sprint in between the trees, not stopping for a second.

Until one orc jumps in front of you and manages to tackle you in the ground.

It tries to shove its sword through you, but you move aside just in time. However, it manages to hit the dagger from your hand, leaving you weaponless.

You try to get up, but the orc grabs your neck and presses you against the ground so hard you’re choking as it rises its blade, ready to cut off your head.

Something flies through the air and drills inside the orc’s head. An arrow.  Its grip from your neck loosens and you fight yourself free, leaning against a tree. You see elves, unfamiliar to you, charging behind the trees and killing every orc on sight. Your head is dizzy from the loss of air when the orc was strangling you, but you try to get up.

Wrong choice. One orc that hasn’t yet been taken down sees you and is on you at once. You cry out and turn your head away as you see a silver blade approaching your head.

Then, nothing. You open your eyes, only to see an elvish sword that has gone through the orc’s neck and is sank deep into the wood only inches away from you.

Familiar eyes are set on you. Eyes that you haven’t seen in front of you before but which you still know.

Pale blue eyes.

 

_-End of chapter 2-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Edraith’s name means “Saving”, while Tharon is “The vigorous one”
> 
> \- “Drego!” is Sindarin and means “Flee!”


	3. In the Halls of the Elven King

 

 

_It’s him._

Yet something is different.

He’s missing something. It takes a moment from you to actually realize what it is, until it hits you.

His eyes are cold, without the warmth and glimpse of emotions you saw in the vision of The Mirror. The difference is shocking.

He studies your face closely, with a dark smirk on his face.

“I have seen many dark creatures invading my lands today, yet not one of my own kin that I have never seen before.”

He pulls his sword free and tosses the dead orc aside, without leaving your eyes for a second. You’re about to thank him for saving you, when he suddenly turns the blade towards your own throat.

“Who are you, and what business do you have to enter my realm?”

You gasp but try to remain calm, despite your dizzy head.

“I… We… Came to warn you. There has been a vision of your realm being in danger…”

His face stiffens and he moves the blade closer, its blood-stained tip only inches away from you.

“Endangered by what?! Who has been telling you this?!  _Answer me_!”

You wince when he rises his voice and blurt out the lie:

“Lady Galadriel! She…She had a vision! It…”

Your head is feeling heavier every second.

“My Lady!”

Edraith and Tharon are running towards you, escorted by three elves, but He lifts his sword and points it towards them.

“Do not disturb me while I am questioning her. Unless you want me to imprison both of you.”

They back off, muttering nervously.

“Yes, King Thranduil… Apologies…”

Thranduil turns back to you.

“Now. Answer me.”

You’re trying to catch the thought, but it’s becoming really difficult. The adrenaline burst caused by the attack is slowly abandoning your body, leaving it weaker every second.

“It… The fire…”

The terror you feel when remembering the vision must be reflecting from your face. He narrows his eyes and grabs your wrist, pulling you closer.

_“What did you say?!”_

You feel like you’re losing the fight inside your head but try to tell him at least something before passing out..

“The forest… Trees.. Burned… Everything burned.”

His eyes widen in shock while everything around you is fading away in darkness.

“A… Battle… Under the trees…”

Then, you are lost, falling over to his lap, your last memory being about laying against the cold surface of his armor, his long, warm fingers still tightly around your wrist.

 

__✽ ✽ ✽  
_ _

 

You wake up shortly afterwards and realize you’re being carried by Edraith.

“E-”

“Shh, everything is fine, just hold still. Your neck is bruised and they’ll examine the injuries better once we have arrived to the healers…”

_“Ada!”_

You catch a glimpse of a slender, blond-haired elf running towards the King who is walking ahead of others, sided by his guards.

Thranduil nods to him briefly.

“Legolas. What is it?”

“The prisoner has escaped. It must have happened during the orc attack.”

You can see Thranduil’s arms tense under the armor. Then, he shouts:

“All border guards, go search for the creature! It must be found immediately. The rest of you will follow me.”

Four group of elves separate from the mass at once and sprint away to all directions as you continue forward. Thranduil keeps walking while he’s changing quick words with Legolas who looks deeply concerned. Their words are too silent for you to hear, but you can sense they are arguing about something.

You turn your head slightly to see where you’re going.

The great gates of the Woodland Realm rise before you. You’re led towards them, the King in lead. He walks closer to the gates and rises his arm.

Everybody stops when the gates open slowly outwards. Then, the elves split up, half of the group leaves downstairs while the other half, led by the King, continues to the left.

As you hear the voice of the gates closing, you glance over Edraith’s shoulder, catching a last glimpse of the forest before the gates are closed with an echoing boom.

“Take her to the healers, the escorts shall follow me to the throne room. I want a detailed narration of what happened in the woods.”

Edraith squeezes your hand gently and lets you to return to your feet. You try to take a step forward and find yourself to be steady enough for walking.

Edraith leaves with Tharon, the King and the King’s son Legolas while the other elves lead you to another direction. You finally arrive to a room where several elves run around helping the wounded. Though, the amount of them is low, and the injuries aren’t too severe. You’re surprised to see how lightly the wounded are chatting with their friends who are sitting around them, even laughing and throwing jokes. Like the battle where they just were involved was no big deal at all.

One of the healers, an elf woman with tightly-braided brown hair, takes a look at your neck. She turns and moves your head gently, pressing your neck with her fingers to detect any pain.

Finally, she tells you:

“You were lucky. The orc stopped the blood circulation to your head for a while, but it’s nothing severe. The bruises on your neck are the only visible injuries. I expect you to be fully healed in next to no time. If you start feeling any symptoms later, you may return here for further examination.”

You thank her, and rise up slowly. At the same time, one of the elves sitting next to the door jumps up and walks over to you.

“I was told to escort you to the throne room, as soon as you’re ready.”

You nod nervously and follow him to the stairs.

He leads you to the throne room, a great space dominated by a massive throne, with the King himself sitting on it. His son stands next to the throne, speaking silently with Tharon and Edraith.

“Thank you, Ferion. You may leave us now.”

Ferion bows and walks away. The King turns his attention to his son.

“Legolas. Take these two to the guards who are supposed to patrol around the river. They will take care of the rest.”

Tharon and Edraith shoot a worrying look at you, but follow Legolas as he leads them away from the throne room.

Now, it’s just you and the King.

Thranduil has removed his armor and is now dressed in burgundy-colored tunic, his silver-blonde hair creating a strong contrast against the fabric. His body seems relaxed, but you are not so easily fooled. You can see the tension in his eyes when he looks at you.

“So…. I want to hear it all. Right now. Tell me about the vision.”

While you’re explaining it to him, you make sure to be careful to not to slip out the fact that it is  _your_  vision of which you’re talking about. You talk for a long time, and he interrupts you only to ask questions of different things: How many elves were seen in the vision, was it night or daytime… The details of the vision rise before your eyes while you’re explaining them to him, making it really unbearable for you. However, you keep going on because you know he will not let you go before you’re done with it. 

When you’re finished, he looks at you without saying anything. Finally, he asks:

“And this is the way she saw it? Some unknown forces attack my realm while everything is set on fire, and I get wounded while fighting against these creatures she didn’t see?”

“Yes.”

You hadn’t told about the one thing that was bothering you. In the vision, he had clearly recognized you, which made sense now because you had met each other. But, there was something more in it. His eyes had been full of  _fear._ Fear for  _you_. And that was something you couldn’t understand.

The thought makes you shiver. He notices it, lifting his eyebrow as a question. You say nothing. He stares you for a moment, and then continues:

“Very well. I shall think carefully about what you have just told me. And, if Lady Galadriel wishes so, it might be best for you to stay here. Of course, if this battle ever takes place, you will not be any better secured in here.”

You turn your head away, trying to lead your thoughts elsewhere.

“Tharon and Edraith were taken to somewhere else, why?”

“You escorts are set to patrol the borders with my guards for the time they’re spending here. They’ll learn the new areas quickly. You, in the other hand…”

His eyes wander slowly over you, from head to toe, studying you even more closely than back in the forest. You try to ignore his gaze, though you can’t stop the heat that’s suddenly warming up your cheeks.

“There are surely some ways for you to entertain yourself while your stay. We have our halls for arts, music, sciences… Libraries, if you need.”

“Thank you, your Highness, but even though your mention of a library sounds interesting, I would like to do something else. Something where I would need some assistance.”

“And what would that be?”

You lift your chin higher.

“I wish to learn how to fight.”

Both of his eyebrows rise now, as he’s looking slightly surprised.

“So you show interest to the arts of fighting…? I am sure you have already received some guidance to the subject in Lothlórien, as all elves should…”

“Yes. But it is… Back in the forest, I couldn’t do enough.”

“Unfortunately, I must agree with that. Your skills are clearly very limited.”

You feel your cheeks blushing and slight anger rising inside your chest. You don’t like being mocked.

However, it’s the King, so you swallow back the prickly words you are about to blurt at him, and say instead:

“Yes. So you might understand why I am asking for this.”

He thinks about your words for a moment. Then, he straightens on his throne.

“Well, I must tell you that our resources for any private fighting lessons are very bad at the moment. I need all of my guards patrolling the woods at all times. Also, the head of the guards is slightly injured and needs to rest… ”

He looks thoughtful, then rises up and walks down towards you.

“My son Legolas might be able to help you, he is a skilled warrior himself. I shall inform him of this. You will start tomorrow morning, if nothing else occurs. Meet him in the High Chambers, someone will lead you there.”

“Thank you, My Lord”, you say, feeling relieved of the chance you’ve received.

Thranduil is just walking past you but stops, turning to look at you with a highly amused expression on his face.

“ _My Lord_? Well, that changed quickly.”

You don’t understand it at first, but then feel the embarrassment flooding over you. Until then you had referred to him as  _his Highness_ , but now as he would be  _your_  King, which he certainly wasn’t.

He clearly enjoys seeing you so flustered, a knowing smirk on his face. He turns around and walks slowly down the aisle, leaving you to stand alone in the middle of the throne room.

“Until tomorrow then. Sleep well, you will have a long day ahead of you.”

 

_-End of chapter 3-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- “Ada” is Sindarin word for “father”  
> \- Ferion’s name means “Son of Beech-Tree”


	4. The High Chambers

 

 

_Legolas enters the King’s chambers, his face blank._

_“Ada.”_

_Thranduil turns to face him, rising from his chair._

_“The trackers and border guards have not been able to locate the creature yet. I will follow them and help to search it.”_

_Thranduil nods slightly and turns his eyes to the glass of wine he’s having in his hand, holding it against the light to see the red liquid sparkling against the crystal edge._

_“It must be found… The Gollum creature was said to possibly play a part in the upcoming events. Perhaps even a bigger one than any of us would expect. Aragorn of the Dúnedain trusted us to keep it safe within our realm… ”  
_

_Legolas frowns, but doesn’t say anything._

_Thranduil continues:_

_“I believe you have also taken care of the orcs that still remained on our lands?”_

_“Yes. We sent a few of the trackers after those orcs who managed to escape earlier.”_

_“Good… We must find out where they came from. The attack was obviously well coordinated, almost as testing our weakest spots…”_

_“Do you think…. The warning we just received…?”_

_“I do no think nor suspect anything. Yet. I want information. Facts. And I shall get them. One way or another.”_

_Thranduil puts his wineglass on the table, walks to the shelf full of books and takes out one of them. Turning the pages lazily, he says:_

_“Go now. Inform me if anything occurs.”_

_“Yes.” Legolas turns on his heels, ready to leave.  
_

_“And… Stay safe.”_

_Thranduil hears him to linger for a brief moment. Shifting.  
_

_“Of course.”_

_Then, he’s gone._

_Thranduil looks through the pages of the book, without actually seeing any of it. His thoughts are completely elsewhere… Focused on a particular pair of eyes.  
_

_“Such terror… As if she self saw the things she described……”_

 

_✽ ✽ ✽_

 

 

You don’t have a slightest idea of what happened after you had gone to bed last night, so you are still expecting to have a training lesson with Legolas.

You stretch your back slightly, then get out from your bed and wince when your bare feet touch the cold stone floor. 

Someone has left a pair of dark pants and a grey-green tunic on the chair for you. It wouldn’t be really useful to wear the gown which you were still using while arriving to Mirkwood, so why not. You pull them on and brush your hair, trying to tie it up somehow but as you find it too difficult you just let it hang free down your back.

You’re feeling like you’re bursting with energy as you approach the High Chambers, led again by Ferion who was waiting behind your door in the morning to take you to the place of your training sessions.

Ferion stops at the door and gestures you to go in.

“Thank you”, you say and give him a little smile.

His face stays blank and emotionless.

Fine, then. You lift your chin up and turn your back at him, flicking your long hair while doing so.

You enter the wide room, its roof rising high above you. Some openings near the ceiling allow in some sunlight, its golden rays playing in the hair of a blond-haired elf waiting for you on the other side of the room.

You stop on your tracks when you realize it’s not Legolas.

It’s Thranduil.

He turns to you, a slightly arrogant look on his face.

“There you are. I have been waiting for you.”

“I… Wasn’t Legolas supposed to teach me?”

“Unfortunately my son has more urgent matters to take care of at the moment. Therefore, I shall teach you instead.”

Your eyes widen.He?  _He_  would teach you to how to fight?

“You? I mean….”

He looks amused.

“You do not think I am suitable to teach you?”

“Oh, it’s not that…. I was just taken by surprise..”

“Good. Well…”

Thranduil approaches you, this time dressed in a short grey-silver tunic, his sword hanging from the scabbard tied around his hips.

“We  _could_  try to…test your abilities this time. To see which part needs most training.But, I am quite sure your… unexistent abilities will need quite a lot of work, no matter what.”

You are getting angry again and try to defend yourself.

“You think I am not skilled in any way? Even though I lost my sword in the battle it doesn’t mean I would be completely helpless. Did they tell you how well I aimed the throw? It went right through.”

The look he shoots at you is full of disdain, his half-attempted smile cold.

He looks down and draws out his sword which you saw earlier in the forest. An almost delicate-looking blade, with some beautiful carvings along its length. He touches the side with his fingertips, almost caressing the sharp edge with a gentle touch.

“One thing about swords….”

He turns his gaze slowly to your eyes, still running his fingers on the blade.

“One does NEVER throw her sword away the way you did. In a battle, throwing away your sword is the same as throwing away your life. You will hold on to your weapons as long as possible. Besides, there is already a better way invented for killing the enemy from a distance. We call them  _arrows_.”

You blush of embarrassment.

“It was the only way to save Edraith. Or Tharon, whoever was about to get shot.”

“They knew their task; It was to protect you. And yet you apparently wanted to get yourself killed.”

You stay silent. You know he’s right. He knows it, too.

With a swing, he returns his sword to its holder. Then, he removes the belt from his hips and takes the sword to the table.

“Today, we will not be using any weapons.”

“What?? Then how am I supposed to learn anything–?!”

_“NO DHÌNEN!!”_

The look he shots at you is so effective you snap your lips shut at once, almost terrified.

He comes back to you, still looking angry.

“The heart of everything is not the weaponry itself. To master the weapons requires you to first have a full control over your  _own_   _body_. You must know how to use it. How strong it is. You weaknesses against your strong sides. Everything. Then, you will be able to use your weapons as effectively as possible. Also, in case of being parted from them, you might have a chance to survive. _If_  you only knew how to do it.”

You roll your eyes slightly but stop as he notices it.

“As you say… Though, a normal body combat doesn’t sound too interesting…”

He looks at you, clearly having a hard time to decide if he should be either annoyed or amused.

“Very well….”

He walks five steps away from you and turns to face you from straight ahead.

“Try to charge me.”

“What?”

You don’t know if he’s actually serious.

“Do it.”

He stands still in front you, relaxed, his weight shifted on the other foot. He only looks at you, eyes half-closed, hands crossed over his chest. As he wouldn’t see you as a threat at all.

_Let’s see about that….._

That’s your last thought before you leap towards him, trying to reach his shoulders.

In the next second, you find yourself laying on the ground, your body pinned tightly against it so that you cannot move.

“Well, I must say,  _THAT_  was a disappointment.”

He’s so close you smell his scent, like musk mixed with something sugary.  
You look at him above you, feeling his strong fingers around your wrists as he has managed to grab both of them with his left hand, while his right is holding a short dagger against your throat.

“Where did you–??”

Thranduil smiles dangerously.

“Lesson number one: Never underestimate your opponent. Even if he seems to be unarmed.”

“Weren’t you just underestimating me? The look in your eyes was clear enough. I could be more dangerous than you think…”

The amused look is back.

“Is that so?”

His cold smirk widens as he leans closer to you, his blonde hair tickling your face. You feel the heat warming up your cheeks and try to kick him off, with no success. He just simply presses your feet back down with his knee, only holding you tighter as you try to pull your hands free.

“I doubt it.”

 

 

_\- End of chapter 4 -_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- “No dhínen!” = literal, “Be silent!”


	5. Unexpected Affection

 

 

 

You stop fighting for a moment and try to figure out how to escape from the situation you’ve just gotten yourself into. Thranduil’s body pushing against yours is distracting you greatly, making it difficult to think.

You swallow hard.

“Fine, you won, I admit I was wrong. Let me go.”

He lifts one eyebrow.

“Do not think I would be done with you just yet.”

You let out a desperate groan and try to free your hands again when he removes the dagger from your throat, putting it away.

“Your struggling is adorable, yet it does you no good.” 

You act like you wouldn’t hear him, fighting your other leg free. You lift and bend your knee, trying to get the leg between your bodies to push him away.

But he’s always one step ahead.

With his free hand he grabs your leg and shoves it down, his fingers sinking deep into the fabric covering your thigh. You let out a silent whine because of the slight pain his fingers are causing with their tight grip.

He bends even closer, his eyes locked with yours. A shiver runs down your spine.

“Do I hear whining? For your information, I shall tolerate no such thing when teaching you.” He leans back, removing his hand from your leg. You can still feel the warmth of his fingers lingering on the thin fabric. 

“I trust you’ll remember it.”

He releases your hands, wiping his long hair back from his face. You are uncertain whether to move or not. Yet. He is still so close. 

You don’t know what to do, lying there on the ground. Nervous, you rub the side of your neck and wince. You had forgot the bruises the orc had left on your skin during the attack. Luckily, it doesn’t hurt unless you touch the marks too roughly.

He is about to rise but stops, his eyes targeted at your neck.

Then, he moves his hand and presses his fingers gently against your skin. You let out a slight gasp, but lay still. 

His fingers follow the bruise marks around your throat, tenderly caressing each one of them, then moving to your collarbone… You feel your body to become weak and shaky, something you’ve never experienced before.

“What a shame for such a beautiful skin to be tainted with the marks of violence…”

He looks almost thoughtful, his fingers still moving softly against your skin like feathers. You shiver again.

His eyes meet yours, with a weirdly clouded look.

“I must warn you. Training with me, or anyone else at that matter, might cause more bruises on your skin.”

“They will fade.” You wouldn’t stop the training just because of some small injuries. 

He moves backwards to get a better sight of you. “I shall show no mercy. Keep that in mind. I will train you like any other soldier of my realm.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath to calm yourself a bit. Then, you reply with a firm voice:

“I asked for this. Therefore, I will take any consequences that follow.”

He smirks, the cold glimmer returning to his eyes.

“Good.”

He rises to his feet.

“I shall see you to honor your words. Right to the very end.”

And so he does. It’s almost as the gentle moment is swept away at once like it never happened, when he starts to fire you with sharp orders. Like the true leader he is, whose commands are to be followed without questioning.

You follow his words when he tells you to run, bend, turn around… Your every move is being surveyed by him, when he tells you to do something differently, makes you to repeat the same things until you get them right. Until you’re out of breath. 

_He must be enjoying this way too much_ , you think as you practice the self-defensing posture in case of an attacker coming from straight ahead, your arms tensed and ready to repeat the practice moves for Valar knows how many times after another. Your sore muscles are already screaming against your will, but you force yourself to continue.

He eyes you, without any warmth in his gaze, from head to toe. Then, he gives you a cold smile.

“Your feet are positioned all wrong…”

And so it starts all over again.

 

__✽ ✽ ✽  
_ _

 

Once you’re done for the day and Thranduil allows you to return to your chambers (without as much as a word about your progress), you don’t hesitate for a minute. It feels like your whole body is burning, every limb filled with acid. It probably won’t be any better tomorrow, either.

Some other elf, who appears to be much better of a company than the stone-faced Ferion, leads you back to your chambers. At least he’s talking to you, not much, but nevertheless.

Once you arrive to your chamber doors, he nods his head slightly and takes off to another direction. You realize you didn’t even remember to ask for his name, but it’s too late now.

You look at him as he walks away. One thing about the Woodland elves that caught your attention right from the start was how different their movements were. They were just as graceful as their kin in Lothlórien, but there was something more as well. A slight sense of tension, the movements still pliable. They were like wild cats, ready to jump and kill at any moment. 

Not to even mention Thranduil. His movements were swift like a predator’s while circling its prey. 

You shiver and shake your head to get rid of the thought. Sighing, you’re about to pull off your gear when you notice an unfamiliar scent coming from nearby. Sniffing the air, you follow the scent to a half-open door on the other side of the room _._

You haven’t had a chance to use your private bathroom just yet, so you take a moment to take in the sight that greets you at the door.

The polished stone walls and floor are of a material you haven’t seen before, dark in color with some silvery white lines drawing beautiful patterns across the stone. Vines and small branches filled with flowers decorate the corners of the room, leaving space for a small pool of water on the center.

Someone has prepared a bath for you, which you’re thankful for, considering the ache all over your body. You watch the steam rising from the bath, the water surface covered with herbs and flowers, apparently the source of the scent that led you here. You lean closer and inhale the rich scent. Lavender, and something else you can’t quite recognize.

Anxious to get some relief to your sore muscles, you leave your clothes in a pile on the floor and step into the bath. Letting out a sound of satisfaction, you sink into the hot water. After a while, your mind starts to replay some of the scenes from earlier of the day. Your thoughts get stuck at the sight of him and his eyes above you, and the feeling of stone beneath your back as he keeps you down, his fingers curling around your wrists…

“Argh!” You moan and hurry to cover your burning face with your hands, splashing water all over the place. You really shouldn’t be thinking about it. He clearly wanted to play with you to show how weak you really are, in  _every_  sense of the word.

_Well, if there’s something I must promise to myself… I can’t let him catch me off guard like that everagain._

You lean back against the edge of the pool, closing your eyes. _  
_

_Never._

 

_\- End of chapter 5 -_


	6. The Realm

 

 

The next day your muscles ache worse than ever before. You groan loudly as you try to stretch your arms and back, rising to a sitting position in your bed.

“That damned bastard must be really proud of himself now, I doubt I’ll be even able to walk today…” you grumble under your breath, when you hear a muffled laughter echoing in the room.

You realize you’re not alone and let your hands drop on your lap, shocked. There’s an elf lady, unfamiliar to you, standing next to the little desk on the corner of the room, arranging a tray of something that looks very much like your breakfast.

You feel your cheeks glowing red and stutter: “I-I’m sorry, that sounded so very wrong, I didn’t mean it like he and I did–”

“Did what? With who?” The elf lady gives you a look and smirks, winking knowingly.

You quickly try to change the subject to something that has less double-meanings. “Is that my breakfast? Thank you, but you shouldn’t have…”

“It’s not a problem. You’re in need of a filling breakfast after all, yesterday’s physical activities must have drained you completely”, she winks again and you hide behind your hands, utterly embarrassed. 

She laughs and comes to stand next to the bed. “Don’t worry, I’m only teasing you. It’s in my nature.” She smiles at you, her hazel eyes warm and friendly. “I’m Emlineth.”

“ _Ni veren an dhe ngovaned_ ”, you bow your head slightly for a greeting, raising your hand to your heart.

“Likewise”, she repeats the gesture. 

“You work here?” You ask as you slip out of bed and put on a dressing gown that has been left for you on the chair. 

“Every now and then.“ She leads you to the table where she has arranged a set of food: a bowl of red berries, a few fruits and some bread with a chalice filled with cool water. “Your arrival was rather a spectacle, how are you feeling? People haven’t really even seen you, when there hasn’t been a welcome feast.” 

“I’m feeling all good now, luckily I wasn’t wounded that badly. So, you usually arrange feasts for guests?” You ask as you take out a piece of bread.

“Not that often, since we do not get many visitors in here outside the annual celebrations. We like our own feasts though, and usually have loads of them. I suppose we would have held one now, but the attack disarranged everything. Guards have been doubled and the whole realm is still basically in a lockdown.”

You swallow a piece of bread, the taste of it suddenly going bitter in your mouth. “Are you preparing for a new attack?”  
“Well, we expect that there will be another attack someday in the future. It doesn’t matter though, because lately we have been on a pretty high alert anyway.” Emlineth shrugs and gathers her things. “Enjoy your breakfast, I suppose you have some free time today since King Thranduil is on a council meeting discussing about the proceedings for the continuing lockdown.” 

She waves her hand and smiles while leaving the room, pulling the door closed after her. You quickly finish your breakfast and set the tray aside, and try to stretch your arms again. The pain in your muscles isn’t too bad anymore, but you can still feel it.

You couldn’t care less of dressing up or even leaving the room, but decide to do it anyway. You look for your dress and realize it’s nowhere to be found. It’s probably been thrown away, considering the damage. You remember that the other sleeve was practically ripped in half and the bodice was breaking apart from the sides.

_Not to mention the hem… Oh, I must have been a sight indeed while arriving here…_

Your training gear isn’t in the room either (though you think you saw Emlineth carrying some clothes with her while leaving), so you walk towards the great wardrobe standing next to the wall and open it. Someone has arranged a few dresses for you, it seems. Three of them. You look at them for a moment and then pull out a pale lilac dress with half sleeves. The other two look beautiful as well, but they seem too fancy for normal daywear.

While putting on the dress you realize it has a corset lacing on the back. Grunting something, you go back to the wardrobe and realize all three dresses are the same, with a lacing. There’s no way you’ll be able to lace them up all on your own with your little to no experience. You’ve always hated any tightness around your ribs, so you haven’t worn corsets even for the feasts.

Emlineth could probably help, but you don’t have a slightest idea where to find her now that she’s left. You open the door and quickly glance to both ends of the corridor, before sneaking towards the one that leads to the upper levels.

You’re halfway across your path when you hear someone speaking behind you:

“I wouldn’t want to sound rude, but you seem to be quite…. Undone.”

You turn your head and see Edraith standing behind you, with a slightest smile on his lips. He has noticed the open lacings. You blush and turn to hide your bare shoulders and upper back. 

“I was just going to get some help… Besides, how are you here? I haven’t seen you or Tharon since we arrived.”

“King Thranduil asked for our assistance and we felt it was the least we could do, in exchange of having a place to stay in here. May I?” He gestures towards your dress, and you lift your eyebrows in a question.

“Are you sure you know how to do it?”

“As if it was my first time lacing a woman’s corset…”, he rolls his eyes. “I’ve helped my mother and sister a few times. They often need help before feasts, the dresses tend to be more complicated then.”

“Indeed…” You slip quickly back inside your chambers with Edraith on your heels, pulling the door closed. “Is this their normal daywear? I hardly think it’s convenient, especially here.”

“I doubt it, considering the clothing I’ve seen in the past days. It looks about the same as back home, comfortable yet elegant. Although I must say, their choices of colors are more… Elaborate”, He spins his finger, suggesting you to turn around.

“Then why this”, you mumble as you turn, suddenly feeling awkward. Edraith doesn’t seem to notice, as he grabs the lacings and gently starts to pull and twitch the strings, his fingers brushing your bare skin from time to time.

“Maybe they see you as such a fine lady that they think you’d rather like to dress in the finery all year round.”

You let out a most unladylike snort and reply: “Well, I’ll make sure to correct that mistake.”

You stand in silence for a while, interrupted only by Edraith’s questions if the lacing is too tight or too lose. Finally, he speaks: 

“I heard that you have started battle training? How is it going?”

“I’m doing alright, though I’ve been to the training only once by now. And, apparently, Thranduil wants to make it feel like torture…”

Edraith is just pulling the lacing and accidentally takes them in too much, making you gasp when the air escapes your lungs and you wince, pressing a hand against your side.

“I’m sorry! Sorry! Are you alright? I just wasn’t expecting… What has Thranduil to do with your training? The guards were talking about Legolas, not him.”

“Ah, Legolas had something more important to take care of, so he came to help me instead.” You rub your belly, while Edraith quickly finishes the lacing.

“He doesn’t seem the type.”

“Well, who knows what he thinks.”

Edraith doesn’t reply, but drops his hands and lets you see the result from the full-length mirror standing against the wall. You stare at your image over your shoulder to see the back of the dress. He really seems to know what he’s doing, since the lacing looks just right.

“Thank you, it’s perfectly done”. After you brush your hair and take a last glance into the mirror, you and Edraith leave the room. 

Edraith seems to know the places better than you, so you let him lead the way. He shows you the main halls and passageways that connect them together, before taking you to the open cave that serves as the central of the realm. 

The size of the Woodland realm is bewildering. It’s hard for you to believe that all this has indeed been built inside and under a great hill. It’s quite dim here, so they have small lanterns sprinkled everywhere, hanging from the branches and roots that grow through the walls or from the ceilings of the passageways. 

You walk past a great waterfall that seems to be the source of the river water running through the realm, when Edraith says: “I should show you the ballroom. It’s something I’ve never seen before.”

“Really? I would doubt that, since you have visited Imladris too. As I have heard, their architecture is beyond anything that has been built since the days of Menegroth.”

“Oh, trust me, this is even greater.”

You walk up some stairs to the upper levels, towards the High Chambers where you had your training just yesterday. You suppose you two will be heading to that direction, but then Edraith turns to right instead of left. You reach a great doorway leading to another part of the realm. There’s a corner, and once you see what’s behind it, you stop on your tracks to take in the magnificent view.

The ballroom is a closed room with a roof so high it reaches the top of the hill aboveground. It seems to be the only place in the realm with enough sunlight to light up the whole room without any lanterns. The roots of the giant trees growing aboveground form intricate patterns across the ceiling, letting the sunlight shine through the gaps in between them. Flowers and vines climb up the walls and around the statues placed around the edges of the room. You walk down the steps that lead to the center of the room, admiring the crystals that have been recessed into the railings. 

The statues look even more impressive up close, it’s clear that they have been made by someone who knows how to use his/her tools. Most of them seem to represent different animals. You walk around the statue of a beautiful swan, its wings spread wide open and every feather so detailed it’s almost as if a real swan had been turned into stone. Crystals with the color of deep red wine have been placed above the swan’s eyes, forming a little tiara on its head. Clear, milk-white stones follow the edges of the swan’s wings and tips of the feathers.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Edraith stands next to you again, clearly satisfied with your adorement. 

“Truly. Look at all this, it must have taken ages to create…”

You observe how the rays of sunlight reflect from the crystals, casting patterns of lights on the walls, when you feel a soft breeze touching your skin and turn around. There’s nothing for you to see, except a half-hidden passageway that is almost dissappeared behind the hanging leaves of the vines that grow above its doorway. You push the leaves aside to get a better look. 

There are no lanterns, but the sunlight coming in the ballroom gives you enough light to see the decorative pillars and a pair of double doors at the end of the corridor. You slip through the leaf curtains and start walking towards the doors.

“What are you doing?!” Edraith hisses from somewhere behind you. “That area is off-limits!”

“No one will ever know I went here, if you don’t tell about it.”

You hear him muttering angrily when he rushes after you: “” _Look after her, I am sure you are the best person to keep her safe_ ”. Well, certainly not, if she decides to wander off on her own and doesn’t do anything as I say.”

“What?”  
“Nothing, just repeated what lady Galadriel told me.”

You frown, but refuse to stop. This place gives you a sad, almost melancholic sensation. It feels as if something that was once alive would be gone now, and only the shell of it was left. There is dust everywhere, you notice, as you rise your hand to touch one of the ornaments that decorate the pillars. A spiral of vines twists around the base with small, dancing deers carved above them. They look so delicate you’re afraid to break them with just your mere touch. 

Dust rises in poofs under your feet as you walk towards the doors, eyeing the engraving in the wooden panels. It’s a forest scenery with a great horned deer and its hornless counterpart facing each other, one on each door, their wooden eyes looking like they’d be following you as you approach. 

You lift your fingers on one of the handles, and give it a slight tug. The door opens with a creaking sound, and you take a look inside.

It’s very dark in there, but you can see the outlines of a massive canopy bed in a space that looks very much like a bedroom. A dressing table stands on the other side of the room with a small, unfamiliar statue placed on top of it. It looks almost like a bust image of someone. You can’t see it properly, and sneak inside to get a better look, noticing something glimmering around the statue.

You’ve gotten only a few steps away from the table when you hear someone talking, and the doors fly open behind you, banging against the walls. You spin around to see a familiar face, a set of disapproving eyes looking down at you.

“Sneaking around now, are we?” There is a dangerous glint in Thranduil’s pale eyes. “Do tell, who gave you the permission to enter the Queen’s chambers?”

 

_\- End of chapter 6 -_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Emlineth is a Sindarin word for “Yellow bird” 
> 
> -Ni veren an dhe ngovaned = I am happy to meet you (Doriathren form of Sindarin used in Lothlórien, in Woodelven Sindarin the form would be slightly different: Ni veren an le ngovaned)
> 
> -Imladris is another name for Rivendell, and Menegroth was the capital of the old elven realm of Doriath.


	7. "You started this..."

 

 

Someone once said mockingly that you wouldn’t recognize trouble even if it stood naked right in front of you. However, there is no possibility to misunderstand the look in Thranduil’s eyes for anything but pure danger.

“I–” You can’t come up with a single answer, while Edraith rushes to speak:  
“I’m terribly sorry, your Highness, we did not know. If we knew, we would have never–”

“Thank you, but I suspect you weren’t the inventor for this particular idea. Am I not right?” Thranduil casts a knowing look at you and walks past you so close that his arm brushes yours, clearly on purpose. It is unclear whether you should find the touch exciting or intimidating, but it sends a jolt down your spine nevertheless.

Thranduil stops behind your back, out of the reach of your eyes, but you don’t dare to turn your head to see him. There is a short silence before he speaks, his voice deceivingly soft: “I understand the delights a young heart seeks, but I see no reason for the said delights to be performed in this certain part of my realm. Or could it be that it is the danger, or forbiddances itself, that make it to appear more… Exciting?”

It takes a moment before the meaning behind his words sinks into your mind, but once it does, the thought sends a wave of heat creeping up your neck. You let out a disbelieving sound and turn around to face him, his smirk looking almost mischievous.

“We are not lovers! How could you possibly…!?? No, this is nothing like that!”

“Oh, but what else should I imagine it to be? Try to look at this from my point of view: Here I walk, discussing with my council about possibly needing to barricade the ballroom, when I catch a sight of a young pair of elves sneaking inside a long forgotten bedchamber. Tell me, little one, what other option could I  _possibly_  think of?

Your mouth feels dry as sand while you try to come up with an answer and also deliver it without stuttering: “No matter how it seemed, it’s nothing like that. I just simply became too curious, and wanted to find out what’s in here.”

“Ah… You are aware of what they say about curiosity, aren’t you?” Thranduil moves closer to you again.

“Yes?”

“I suppose you also remember the part where they warn you about what could happen to those who are too curious for their own good?” He is circling you now, strands of long, pale hair grazing your shoulders, his scent flooding around you.

You swallow, words suddenly feeling heavy on your tongue. “Yes, I certainly do.”

He’s right behind you again when he suddenly leans closer to speak directly into your ear.

“Do you now?” His voice, now very silent, is a soft mixture of amusement and something darker, much more intimate. “To me it seems as if you were willingly trying to get yourself in trouble with me.” His warm breath tickles your neck and you can’t help but quake a little.

He notices your shakiness, and you can sense him smirking again. “Does the thought excite you? Interesting.”

“Eh–?” You start, trying to find your words again, but the sudden feeling of his hand against your back stops you short. His fingers weave their way through the lacings of your dress to touch your skin, while you can’t stop a small gasp from escaping your lips.

As if being encouraged by the sound, he presses his fingers harder against you, almost clawing at your skin with his fingers. You can feel his fingernails scraping gently at the surface of your skin and you shudder, turning your head to look at him with your eyes wide open, lips slightly parted.

His eyes, usually piercingly sharp and cold, now have a clouded look in them, his cool mask of utter calmness cracking and revealing something burning beneath the surface–

_“Your Highness!”_ a strangled voice interrupts the moment.

In that split second, Thranduil seems to be snapped awake, his eyes getting focused again and the coldness returning. However, his fingers linger on you slightly longer before they disappear.

He turns to face Edraith, whose pointy ears have suddenly gotten a slight rosy tint, the shade also spreading to his cheeks. Edraith’s gaze doesn’t falter though, as he meets the Elven King’s eyes.

“I trust we are clear with the matter at hand? I advice you to  _never_  enter this place again, or the consequences could be severe.” 

Adruptly, Thranduil leaves for the doors and turns, waiting for you and Edraith to leave the room. Once you’re outside, you notice the council members standing at the far end of the ballroom, watching you as you walk from the corridor. Behind you, Thranduil pulls the doors tightly closed, and you hear the sound of a lock being turned. 

_Securing that no one will enter the room again, apparently…_

You feel hugely embarrassed with the council members giving you confused looks, clearly having no idea of what was going on inside the bedchamber. You take Edraith by the arm and pull him towards the stairs, not daring to look back.

Once you’re safely away from the ballroom, Edraith stops and leans against the wall, pinching the edge of his nose. “Oh, by the Valar…”

“Don’t you dare to say ‘What did I tell you’”, You warn him. “Don’t.”

He lets out a tiny snort and looks at you in disbelief. “Apologies,  _my lady_ , but I think that it is  _exactly_  the thing that should be said here. I told you to not to enter that place. Could you just listen to me, for once?!”

“Perhaps, some day in the future. Very, very distant future.”

“Oh, you little–”

“What?” You smile at him, and for a second he smiles back, but then his face turns serious again. 

“You shouldn’t test the King’s patience. I do not know what he said to you back there,” he says, your heartbeat quickening of the memory, “but you appeared to be quite shocked. Be careful. He’s not someone you would want to antagonize.”

Apparently, he didn’t see where Thranduil’s hand had been wandering, and you certainly won’t inform him about  _that_  detail. Unable to say anything, you just start walking downstairs, Edraith following your steps. 

_What a day.  
_

__✽ ✽ ✽_ _

 

Later, after Edraith has kindly completed your little tour around the realm, you enjoy a lovely dinner served to you by some of the elves. You’re delighted to see Emlineth amongst them, and have a chat with her about your wardrobe. She promises to find some more casual clothing for you, but assures she’s going to leave the gowns in there as well, should you ever need them. She follows you to your chambers to prepare a bath for you, while Edraith leaves to get ready for night patrol.

“Do women ever attend the patrols?” You ask from Emlineth as she pours some sweet-smelling oils into the steaming water.

“Of course. It all depends on what you’re assigned for. Also, most of us rely on learning many different things, so that we can circulate between different assignments. On some days you might work in the kitchen, then spend some other days running around the border, for example. We’re all skilled enough for a battle, so it’s not an issue.”

This piece of information doesn’t surprise you, as you’ve been looking at the way the Mirkwood elves act and move. What was the phrase that the elves in Lothlórien had used to describe them? “ _Less wise and more dangerous_ ”? Though, you would beg to disagree with the “less wise”. The Mirkwood elves clearly know what they’re doing.

As Emlineth leaves the room you slip into the bath, trying to not to think about what happened during the day, but it appears to be impossible. Your concern for the moment is also the uncertainty whether your training will continue or not. After all, the King had appeared to be furious about your little exploration. 

_And what was that little trick he pulled back there?_ The thought of him touching you still makes you shiver. _Was it only to tease me? And what now, would he still dare to train with me after it?_  

Some of your questions are answered once you get out of the bath: A note has been slipped beneath the chamber doors. You pick up the folded piece of heavy paper, and open it.

**_“High Chambers. Tomorrow, at dawn.”_ **

There is no signature, but you don’t need one to know who has sent the note. The handwriting is all about Thranduil: Vigorous yet elegant lines, drawn on the paper with ink red as wine. 

_I guess I’ll have another long day ahead of me tomorrow, then._

 

__✽ ✽ ✽_ _

 

In the morning, Emlineth wakes you up while bringing you your training gear, washed and ready to use. You refuse to eat much right before the training, but she insist you to have a few grapes before you leave. The sunrise isn’t far away, so you have to run to the High Chambers so you won’t be late. 

Panting slightly, you enter the room just in time, only to find that Thranduil has not yet arrived. It is earlier than previously though, so you wonder if he has forgotten the time change. Or, if he has simply overslept. A chuckle escapes your lips as you imagine him sprawled on his bed, with drool hanging from his mouth. A sight you wouldn’t really expect to see.

“Having fun? I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.”

You freeze, turn around and see Thranduil leaning against the doorframe, all dressed in black, his shiny hair falling loosely around his shoulders.

“Ready to begin? Good. Let’s not waste any time then.”

An hour later you’re tired, sore and a slightest bit angry. You’ve been training against a wooden doll, kicking and punching the hideous thing so many times that your every limb is hurting. Still, Thranduil won’t change the routine.

“Sharp punch in the midriff… Now turn…. Hit behind the knees… Faster, you’re too slow, you’d had been knocked down in a real situation. And do not waste your anger on any ill-mannered words, use the energy and focus on your blows.” You had had a few well selected words ready on your tongue but, apparently, he had seen them coming. You bite your teeth together, and continue as you’re told.

Later, he finally lets you rest. You walk to the side table and pour yourself some water from a bottle that has been left there. After such a hard time you went through, the water tastes like the nectar of life.

You hear shuffling noises from behind you and turn slightly; You see Thranduil walking towards you, removing his jacket. Some rather questionable images of him removing  _other_ pieces of clothing as well start to fill your head. You quickly clear your throat and turn around to busy yourself by pouring more water in your goblet, as he stops beside you and sets the jacket on the table.

“Now, we try the combat in real action.”

You nod without saying a word, thinking about the last time you tried your luck in fighting him. Not to mention the other times he had had his hands on you…. A sudden warmth sneaks up to warm your cheeks and also drops lower to swirl inside your stomach. You’re slightly scared but also excited, understanding the scared part of your emotions but feeling conflicted about the latter.

_There is no reason to be excited, he could rip you in half in less than a second!_

_Oh, but what a way to go, by his hands on you…_

_Shut up!_ You silence your thoughts as you set the goblet on the table and walk back to the center of the room, where Thranduil already waits for you.

You step in front of him, leaving some space between the two of you. You take your position as he takes his, and then it starts: The short, adrenaline-filled waiting of who makes the first move. You’re both tensed, waiting for the other to attack.

Finally, you’re about to jump at him, but he’s already moving. You lose your balance when he wraps his arm around you, speaking into your ear:

“Too slow.”

He throws you off your feet, but you manage to turn so that you land on a crouching position. You spin out of the way and rise back up, ready for the next try, but he’s already coming at you. You have no other option but to jump out of the way, closer to the wall. 

You see his hand coming towards your head and duck, when you vaguely realize it to be a feint: His other hand is already aimed at your chest. You rise your hands in front of you to take the blow. 

If the strike had hit you square on the chest, you’d had been flying, but now you only slide a few steps backwards. You notice the slight lift of his eyebrow before he comes at you again.

_A feint? Really? There’s two of us who can play that game, your Highness._

As Thranduil closes in you duck as if you were trying to dodge him from the left. As soon as his knees bend, you jump past his outstretched fingers, take a firm grip of his shoulders and swing yourself over his head, throwing him off balance at the same time. You land safely on your feet behind his back and turn around to face him.

“Interesting choice. But let me warn you… You won’t be able to slip past me twice with the same trick.” His lips curl into a smile, which isn’t exactly a friendly one.

This time you attack, but he moves out of the way, knocking you to the ground. You slip away before he manages to get a hold of you, trying to stay out of the reach of his hands while trying to come up with some plan.

A few minutes later you notice he has got you cornered. Your options are running low as he charges at you and you try to use the feint trick again, this time dodging towards his right.

You know you’ve lost when his fingers curl around your waist and he slams you against the wall, knocking the air out of you. 

“Did I not warn you about using the same trick on me?” He sounds highly amused. You struggle, but it’s like you would be trying to fight against a statue, for he doesn’t move. 

“It’s over. I won.”

_Really?_

Suddenly the craziest idea comes into your mind, and you act on it without thinking. Thranduil has no time to react as you reach forward and bring your face only an inch away from his.

He freezes in shock, his lips parting slightly. You feel his breath against your mouth, and push your lips gently against his for a kiss. For your own shock, he responds, with a much greater force. 

The heat of his lips is bewildering, as is the feeling of his body pushing you against the cold stone wall, his heartbeat so strong you can feel it vibrating through your own body. His grip on your arms loosens as one of his hands slips into your hair, gently holding your head while the other presses against your back, his fingers caressing you the same way they did before.

You’re loosing yourself in the sweet sensations running through your body, but when his hand starts to move down your side, you remember what is truly going on.

_No. I can’t give in to this._

In that split second, your teeth close over his lip. He lets out a surprised sound as you pull away, his startled eyes meeting your gaze as you punch him in the chest.

You clearly catch him off guard as he stumbles backwards, giving you enough space to escape. You run away from him, feeling all breathless and shaky. Once you’ve reached the other side of the room, you turn around.

Thranduil is still standing on the same place where you left him, his fingers caressing his bleeding lower lip. You wince, since you hadn’t actually meant to wound him, just surprise him well enough to get away.

Your own lips are shaking as you’re trying to come up with an apology, when he lifts his fingers, eyeing the blood stains on them. 

“You’re one angry little vixen, aren’t you?” His eyes turn to you, and you swallow when you see the look in them. You know you’ve gone too far this time. Still, you can’t stop your mouth from speaking:

“All is fair in love and war. The victory is mine.”

He stares at you for a moment, then lets out a laugh, a sound that shakes you to the core. 

“ _Really_? Oh, but you have not seen even half of what I truly have to offer…” 

You feel frozen to your spot as he strides towards you.

 

_\- End of chapter 7 -_


	8. "... You'll forgive me, if I finish it"

 

 

You find yourself unable to move as Thranduil catches you easily, lifts you off the ground and places you on the edge of the table. 

“With utmost respect: You call  _that_ a kiss, my lady? Let me show you how it is truly to be done…”

You only have time to look at him in bewilderment before his lips close over yours.You try to struggle free, but he won’t allow it this time: His other arm is wrapped tightly around your waist while the other finds its way to the nape of your neck, his fingers curling there and holding your head in place as you try to turn away.

He starts slowly, but soon his kisses become deeper and more heated as his tongue brushes against your lip, clearly suggesting you to open your mouth. 

Thranduil notices your resistance, you can feel him smiling against your lips as he speaks:

“You rewarded me with a bite of your delicate teeth, let me return the favor…”

Immediately, his teeth sink lightly into the soft flesh of your lower lip, and as that draws a startled gasp out of you, he takes advantage of your parted lips, with his tongue claiming yours.

Your head spins, as if you’d be drunk with a bittersweet need and warm lust that spreads from your core with every touch and kiss Thranduil places on your body. His arm tightens its grip around you, drawing you flush against his hard chest. You can’t help but spread your fingers against the front of his shirt, feeling the muscles beneath, while his lips leave yours and travel towards your throat. You shiver when his mouth pushes against your skin, moving closer to your cleavage. You feel paralyzed as his fingers come down from your neck to trail the collar of your shirt, pulling it lower to reveal more skin for his mouth to explore. When his head dips lower you let out an alarmed sound and he stops, turning his eyes on you.

“Scared, little one?”

You turn your eyes away, avoiding his gaze, which is enough of an answer. He chuckles and moves closer to your ear again, stopping to nibble the skin behind your ear before speaking:

“A small advice, if you please: Do not try to beat me in a game that  _I_  know better.”

At that, he adruptly lets go of you, forcing you to grab the edge of the table to regain your balance. 

“We are done… For now.”

With a last look at your lips, Thranduil takes his jacket and starts off towards the doors, not looking back. 

Your fingers rise to touch your swollen lips.  _What just happened?_

You glide down from the table, trying to regain yours senses: Your knees still feel dangerously weak and your breath comes out in shaky bursts. As you lift your hands to cover your face, you notice the shakiness of your fingers.

_That was not supposed to happen… It shouldn’t have…._

_Then why did it feel so good?_

_✽ ✽ ✽  
_

You have no idea of how long you’ve been standing there, when someone enters the room.

“Oh, apologies, my lady. I did not expect anyone to be here anymore.”

You turn to face the speaker: Another elf lady, her ash-blonde hair gathered up with a set of wooden pins, stands in the doorway with a broom in her hands. 

“No need to worry, I was just about to leave.” You do your best to smile, although your cheeks still feel half-paralyzed. “I believe we haven’t met before?”

“Most likely not. I am Erchiel.” She walks inside the room and starts sweeping right away. “You are one of the elves of Lothlórien who arrived during the attack?”

“Yes, I am”, you reply as you jump out of the way of her broom. “I assume you live here?”

“Certainly”, she says, not stopping her work for a minute. “Since the day I was born.” 

She wanders towards the other end of the room, accompanied with the brushing sounds of her broom. As you’re pondering whether you should leave or not, Erchiel speaks again: “So, the King has taken it as his duty to help you with your practices?”

“Um, yes..” The mention of  _him_  threatens to make your breath stick to your throat, and you cough a bit. “He has been very helpful, I’m grateful for that.”

“He is a skillfull warrior, no need for a better teacher.” 

“Truly…” You don’t know what else to say, so you fall silent. 

“Well, unless my lady is planning on continuing training, I suggest you to get yourself tidied up so you can join others for lunch. It will be served in about an hour.” Erchiel speaks without turning to you.

“Oh. Well then, excuse me…” You mutter and back away from the room. 

Erchiel certainly doesn’t appear like someone to befriend, no. Her voice had been almost downright hostile. The difference between her and Emlineth is quite apparent, and you can only hope that most of the Mirkwood elves fall closer to Emlineth’s persona than hers. Otherwise, this visit might possibly turn out to be even less pleasant than expected… Not that you had had any high hopes to begin with. 

Sighing, you rush to your chambers, trying to silence the chaos in your head: Your mind feels like a tangled bundle of several thoughts and emotions, all trying to make themselves known at once. You grunt and rub your temples, feeling a headache approaching. Too much emotional stress always makes your head throb. Frustrated, you swing the doors to your chambers shut and start to remove your clothing. 

You can only hope that Thranduil won’t be present at lunch, for you have no idea how you can ever face him again after what just happened. 

 

_✽ ✽ ✽  
_

 

You make it to the dining hall just in time. You stop outside the doors to steady your breath before entering, your every nerve praying silently.

Sadly, your prayers are in vain. As you enter the room, you see Thranduil sitting at the other end of the massive, long table, calmly discussing with some of the elves seated near him. He doesn’t seemingly acknowledge your presence in any way, although you could swear his eyes follow you for a moment when you sit down to an empty chair as far from him as possible. You feel hot all over and try to keep your hands from shaking as you reach for your food, almost knocking over one of the wine goblets. You force the food down your throat in small bites and try to forget his presence, which proves to be difficult: You can see his every movement out of the corner of your eye, and every time the discussion around you calms down a bit, you can hear trails of his deep voice echoing from the other side of the room. 

You lift your head when another elf enters the room: Legolas. He marches towards the King, and Thranduil rises immediatelly and leans closer to hear what Legolas has to say. As Legolas whispers into his ear, he frowns and his mouth sets into a thin line. Without a word, he waves his hand for Legolas and leads him out of the room. A few elves look after them, but continue their meal. You have no idea what might be going on, but you can only hope it’s nothing too serious. 

Outside the dining hall, Thranduil and Legolas walk down the corridor, arguing silently.

“ _Ada._  I need to go. That Gollum creature has been on the run far too long already. Lord Elrond must be informed.”

“Then why not send someone else? It doesn’t require any more than a regular messenger to bring a message, with rather ill news, to  _Imladris_.” 

“But the course of actions can be set faster while I am there, as you must stay here.  _Ada_ , be reasonable.”

Sighing, Thranduil halts. “Very well then. But you must promise me to send a message once you have arrived. The roads and paths aren’t as safe as they once were.”

“Of course.” Legolas is about to walk past his father, when Thranduil places his hand on his shoulder. 

“And Legolas…”

Pale eyes meet each other, with mutual understanding shining through them. Legolas smiles a bit, and then rushes away, leaving Thranduil alone in the corridor, staring at the wall. 

 

_\- End of chapter 8 -_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erchiel = Daughter of Prickle
> 
> Imladris = Rivendell


	9. Autumn Season

 

 

 _Thranduil was pacing inside his study, ignoring the elves standing around his table, as they were discussing the latest shipments from Dale_ _and what they needed for the next delivery: it was going to be the biggest one for the whole year -  the harvest festival was practically around the corner, and the festivities needed to be fully arranged in time. Usually the King enjoyed his feasts, but this time he seemed to have little patience to focus on such things, as he had more burning matters that demanded his attention. His son being one of them.  
_

_“I hope he has arrived safely… It’s been several weeks, it’s excruciating to not know how his journey has proceeded…”, he thought and turned his eyes towards the great map that was spread across one of the walls in the study. He knew the way to Imladris by heart, and so did Legolas. Yet the recent events and the uneasiness that was growing inside him left him feeling worried.  
_

_And then there was the matter of that girl…  
_

_By the Valar, he still couldn’t understand how things had proceeded that way, and so fast. She had an amazing ability to make him to lose his temper and his control, both at once. But at the same time, her fierceness fascinated him. He hadn’t faced such an infuriating yet intriguing creature for a long time, not since…_

_Thranduil stopped on his tracks, as he felt a sudden burst of pain flashing through him. No. He would not think of her. The pain was still there, after all this time, nagging at him whenever he dared to think about the past. He always wondered if it would ever disappear completely.  
_

_Yet, as much as he had hated admitting it, the pain had grown weaker ever since the girl had appeared. Which, by default, made him feel more uneasy. He wasn’t even supposed to feel anything towards her, but it was easier to be said than done. He had learned it already long ago: One’s heart rarely answered to the mind’s will.  
_

_Thranduil let out a frustrated sound, then took off to the doors to his personal armory and swung them open, shouting over his shoulder to the elves still left inside the room:  
_

_“Enough. I need some fresh air.”  
_

 

_✽ ✽ ✽_

  
  
So many weeks had passed since your arrival. Inside the realm nothing really changed, but you could see the passing of time in the woods around the realm: Slowly but surely, leaves in the massive trees had turned from shades of green towards the more golden and fiery colors of autumn. The winds that played amongst the trees suddenly felt more chilly, and the nights became longer, with the sun rising later every morning. It also affected the daily rhythm of the elves: Only the night patrol was allowed outside the gates after sundown, which meant that the hunters and those who gathered herbs, plants, berries and other things the forest had to offer, had fewer hours to complete their daily tasks. You had volunteered to help the gatherers and received a permission to go outside, but only when accompanied with at least one of your guardians. Tharon and Edraith had agreed on taking turns, one staying with you while the other was hunting prey with another group. Everyone had been working hard, as winter wasn’t far away and they needed to fill their storages. Now, you were assigned to gather some berries from a nearby field. 

“Next time, I’m going with the herb group”, Edraith mutters under his breath, as he tries to get his hands on some berries growing inside a bush so thick and full of prickles it seems almost impossible to get to the berries. 

You laugh. “You’re just too hasty. Patience,” you tease as you thread your fingers past the thorns, grabbing a cluster of plump, juicy-looking berries. “These are delicious, want some?” You ask as you bring a few to your own lips.

“No, thank you. I’m  _quite_  busy at the moment”, Edraith hisses through his teeth while reaching for another cluster of berries deep inside the bush. 

“Too bad”, you shrug with a smile and eye at the other elves around you. There’s a couple of them working with another bush next to you, and a few more on the other end of the field. Guards stand on their posts, looking around as if waiting for something to show up. The lockdown procedures were reversed some time ago, allowing people outside the realm, but no one was still allowed to leave on their own and you always had to stay relatively close to the gates. Only the hunters and those who collected some rare herb species that growed further away were allowed to do longer journeys. They still had to carry more weapons with them in case there would be another ambush. 

Suddenly, the guards tense. Something is coming, and they raise their bows. You reach for the small knife you have hidden inside your boot, when a shout comes from behind the trees. Other elves. No danger. Then, a huge elk and a few horses ride to the field, each carrying an elf, and your heart drops somewhere around your stomach. 

Thranduil is here.

All the embarrassment you’ve nested in some far corner of your mind comes flooding back. You two haven’t even spoken with each other since that little  _incident_ during the last training session. And it appears it truly  _was_  the last one. You had spent days wondering whether he would still continue with the training or not, and for the next mornings you had made sure you were up early, rushing to the High chambers, hoping for… what? You still don’t know. But soon it became evident that there wasn’t going to be any continuation for your sessions. After the third lonely morning that you had spent sitting alone in the High chambers, you had finally accepted the fact that he wasn’t coming and left the room. Just to forget about the ache that was making its way through your heart, you had turned to your guardians in hopes that they could continue your training, since Legolas had left already weeks ago and most likely wasn’t going to return anytime soon. You were also deeply grateful for Emlineth and her capability to sense your dejection. She had led you to the library of the Woodland realm, which was massive: Rows and rows of shelves filled with books and scrolls and, judging by the look of the oldest ones, some of the writings probably dated all the way back to the First Age. You had spent many evenings there with your nose buried in a book, drinking in all the stories and historical writings accompanied with beautiful, hand-drawn maps and illustrations. It had effectively kept you busy and entertained most of the time, so there hadn’t been any need for you to face your emotions… Until now.

You see him sitting on his elk, looking regal and assertive as always, with his silken hair cascading over his shiny, silver-coloured armor. You notice he is carrying a bow and a set of arrows, which is unusual for him, so you guess they are out here to go for a hunt. Thranduil is changing words with the guards that came with your group, and you see them pointing towards the western path, where the hunting party had been earlier in the morning. You try to strain your ears to pick up their words, when Edraith jumps and yelps next to you, almost causing you to drop your basket full of berries. 

“This damned bush will be the death of me!” He curses under his breath while investigating a cut in his arm, caused by one of the biggest thorns. 

“I told you to be careful”, you lecture him, trying to bite back a grin as you lower your basket to the ground and pull a small piece of cloth from your pocket. “Hold still.”

“Funny, usually it’s  _our_  job to tell that to  _you_ ”, he says with irony in his voice, accompanied with an eye roll, when you gently tap away the blood dripping from the cut.

“Shut up and stay still, or I’ll have to press harder and make this more painful”

“It’s not like I couldn’t tolerate a bit of pain for your sake, my lady”, he chuckles a bit and then, as if just realizing what he replied with, turns away with an abashed look on his face. You look at him, puzzled, when you suddenly feel like you’re being watched. You turn your head and freeze - Thranduil is staring at you two from the other side of the field, his look dark and so intense you can feel it piercing through your very soul, making you shiver. 

You stare at each other for a time that feels like minutes, until you tear your eyes away from him and turn to look at Edraith’s arm, while trying to deal with the sudden feeling of heat bursting through your chest. You refuse to raise your head even when you hear the sound of hoofs galloping away from the field. 

Your thoughts turn back to the past weeks that have gone by, with next to no sign of Thranduil, not before today. Part of the reason for not seeing him has been by your own doing, though - you had taken it as a habit to eat in the kitchens with Emlineth instead of spending the time in the dining hall. One time of trying to eat and sit quietly in the same room with the elf male that tormented your thoughts had been quite enough.

You know it’s useless to have any feelings towards him anyway. He had had a wife in the past, and although you didn’t know any of the details, their parting had been painful. It is painful for you as well to think about, and it only adds to the confusion swirling inside of you. You had searched the library a few weeks ago, in hopes of finding some description of his wife in the scrolls and papers, but with no luck. The only book you had found that had even a slight mention of her was a copy that included information about the family’s ancestry - and even then it was only one sentence at the top of one page:  _“–and so the Lord and Lady of the Woodland Realm were blessed with a beautiful son, who was to be known as Legolas”_ , with the rest of the text on the said page focusing only on Legolas and his position as the crown prince of the realm. 

Weirdly enough, almost a quarter of the pages before and after this one had been ripped off, the last pages before the missing parts vaguely discussing Thranduil’s life in Doriath before its fall and his early times in the Woodland Realm, where he had ultimately ascended to the throne after his father Oropher had been slain in the war of Dagorlad. You couldn’t understand why someone would have wanted to erase every trace of someone with such a manner (although you had a quite heavy sense that it had been Thranduil himself who had torn off the missing pages), but you felt that pain and sorrow did weird things to everyone - making them to react in different ways, too.

Snapping back from your thoughts to the present moment, you notice that Edraith is staring at you curiously.

“Ah, she finally recovers. Lost in thought, huh?”

You blush slightly. “Apologies. I got carried away…” 

“Not literally, I presume”, he teases as you put your napkin away - the cut in his arm has stopped bleeding and will heal just fine on its own - and he helps you to stand up. You give him an eye roll now, but secretly ponder on that idea, as your imagination starts flying. Indeed, what would it be like to get carried away by, say, Thranduil, sitting on that elk of his? Could it carry two? Most likely, although it would require you to sit  _very_  close to each other–

 _“Stop it! You’re just making this worse for yourself!”_ Your thoughts scream, but you can’t help but smirk a bit.One can always dream, though?

 

_✽ ✽ ✽ _  
__

 

Later, back in your chambers, you’re surprised with a pile of vibrant-colored fabrics, delivered by Emlineth, as she rushes to the room and drops the whole lot onto your bed.

“My lady, have you thought about your costume for the harvest feast? We don’t have that much time left, it would be good to start working with it right away.”

“Well, in fact I do”, you answer shyly, rushing to your desk, and pull out one of the books you brought from the library the day before. “I saw a wonderful illustration in one of the stories in this book, perhaps we could use it as a base for my gown? Not exactly a copy, but using some of the elements in it?”

Emlineth rushes to your side and takes a look at the page you’re showing her. “Oh  _yes_ , now  _this_  is something indeed. Perhaps a different neckline to suit you better, and the sleeves need to be longer… Mark my words, we will make sure that  _every_  male elf in this realm is going to fall on his knees when looking at you in this.”

You giggle but can only think about one particular elf whose attention you desire. Sighing, you pick up a piece of paper and start to sketch the gown. 

_Well, I’ll make sure to give him something to remember me of._

_\- End of chapter 9 -_


	10. "I know you're there..."

 

 

You stand in your chambers in front of a large mirror as Emlineth crouches behind you, tightening the lacings of your dress. Oddly enough, Erchiel, the elf lady you had met some time ago right after that perplexing training session with Thranduil, had volunteered to help to dress you up. Now she and Emlineth are fussing around you, pulling the folds of your flowing skirts and tying delicate gold chains and red ribbons around your arms and across your cleavage. 

You take a shy look into the mirror: On paper, the idea of your gown had looked marvelous. Now you start to second-guess that idea, for it seems almost  _too_  bold. Indeed, as Emlineth had said before, everyone’s attention would surely be on you, but you aren’t so sure anymore if you want all of that. You had voiced your concerns when Emlineth had arrived earlier today, but she had passed your pleading objections, assuring that the gown was completely appropriate for the standards of the Woodland realm. 

_Is it though_ , you wonder and turn a bit to get a better look at the gown: It’s made of several pieces of flowing silk in all colors of autumn, the deepest, darkest shades of burgundy placed beneath the outer layers that look as fiery and red as the flames in the fireplace. The silk layers are very thin, as Emlineth had insisted for the fabrics to be light. The thin material clings to your body, embracing every curve  -  one can faintly see the outlines of your legs while walking as your thighs shift against the layers, proving the silks to the even more transparent than you had expected. Turning your hand, you eye at your arms, now covered with the small chains and ribbons that disappear under the billowing sleeves. Your shoulders stand bare with only a few ribbons crossing over them, their ends attached to the neckline of the bodice. The neckline itself isn’t very revealing, but considering the thickness of the material (or, rather, the lack of it), it still shows off quite a lot. You can’t deny the fact that you look absolutely breathtaking, as if the fierce colors were creating an aura of warmth around you. Emlineth is beyond excited, which is understandable - she has single-handedly sewn the whole gown, and has every right to feel proud of herself. 

“Oh, the slippers! Don’t forget the slippers! Where are they?” She turns around, and then groans. “I must have left them in my room, please wait here, my lady”, she says and hastily runs to the corridor. You take a silver comb from your dressing table and start brushing your hair. You have decided to wear it down for the feast, as you like the way your new gown compliments the color of your hair, making it appear even more vibrant than usually.

“My lady, may I offer you a small gift?” You turn around. Erchiel approaches you, with something glimmering in her hands. 

“For me? Oh, you shouldn’t have…” She stretches out her hand, giving you a necklace etched with both gold and silver, with small diamonds decorating the center of a…

“Star”, you whisper. The patterns carved around the diamonds show tinier stars that, together, form the biggest one. You watch, amazed, how the light reflects from the diamonds, making the whole piece sparkle like a real star on the night sky. “Thank you, it’s wonderful.”

“We weren’t sure if your outfit actually needed any necklace to go with it, but I saw this one lying abandoned and thought it would be the perfect one for you.”

She helps you to fasten it - the chain is slightly too long, leaving the pendant hidden under the layers of lace at the neckline of your bodice, but you do not feel bothered by it. The weight of the pendant on your chest feels comfortable and you place a hand over it, wondering how it already feels warm against your skin.

The sound of footsteps comes from the corridor and Emlineth rushes back into the room with a pair of slippers, their color matching your gown perfectly. She is also carrying a delicate lace mask, decorated with wine-colored stones and small feathers. “It is a masquerade after all”, she explains cheerily while helping you to put it on. “The greatest feast of the year, as the harvest ends and winter is ready to arrive. It’s our way to offer our respects for the seasons that have passed and prepare for the darkest time of the year, while waiting for the light of spring to be brought back to us once more.”

You find it interesting that in the Woodland realm, the harvest feast is the biggest celebration of the year - in Lothlòrien it had always been the spring feast, when the light of the sun returns as a sign of winter finally being over. Then again, the season of darkness lasts longer in this part of  _Ennor_ , the days being very short in the middle of winter, offering very little light. No wonder if they want to throw a good party before it.

A sound of a horn echoes through the realm, and Emlineth jumps. “Oh my, is it this late already?! I must go get myself ready - my lady, I trust you to find your way to the feast on your own?” 

“Of course, please go, I wouldn’t want you to be late”, you smile and urge her to hurry up. As the other elven ladies leave the room, you take a last glance in the mirror, then throw your hair over your shoulder and turn to the doors. 

_I am ready._

 

_✽ ✽ ✽_

 

You make your way towards the ballroom through the dim corridors and passageways. There is just barely enough light to see where you are heading, as none of the bigger lanterns have been lit and the only source of light comes from some small candles placed here and there. You pass a few other elves, but you can’t recognize any of them because of the darkness and the masks they’re wearing. Something in your mind is telling you that it is exactly the purpose of the whole thing: Tonight, every elf in the realm shall remain faceless and freed from their identity, allowing them to become whatever they wish to be, if only for a few hours.

As you near the ballroom, the sounds of laughter and drunken joy grow stronger, echoing from the walls. Once you peek from behind the corner, your jaw drops. The ballroom had looked marvellous on the first time you had been there, but now that it is decorated and filled with celebrants, it takes your breath away. It is just as dimly lit as the rest of the realm: the tiny candles placed around all the statues flicker and reflect their light from the moving participants, casting shadows on the walls and leaving the edges of the room filled with soft darkness. The vines climbing up the walls and around the statues have changed color to fit the season of autumn, paired with heavy brocade tapestries that show different images: One displays a forest scenery with a bonfire in the middle and elves dancing around it, while the other shows a pair of elves clad and masked similarly to the real-life elves now flooding the dance floor. Everyone seems to be taken away by the fun, and you decide it is time for you to step in as well.

You straighten your back and walk down the stairs, holding the railing gently with your fingertips, barely grazing it. Once you reach the bottom of the stairs, you notice the looks directed at you by some of the elves, their joyful laughters silenced for a moment when they eye at you from behind their goblets of wine. You feel flushed under their heated gazes, when their eyes travel up and down your body. 

You make your way along the edges of the room, watching the pairs dancing in the middle. Many of the costumes present an animal theme: You spot one lady with a swan mask and feather-covered dress dancing with someone that appears to be dressed as a fox, and you could swear you see a bear disappearing through the balcony doors. 

Behind one of the statues, you notice two elves leaning against the wall, not participating in the feast. Despite the masks that are supposed to hide their identities, it’s not difficult for you to recognize Edraith and Tharon, as they are the only ones in the room that appear slightly lost. You chuckle and pick up your pace, as you walk towards them.

“Considering the amount of work you two have done in the past weeks, one would expect you to have earned yourselves the permission to celebrate a bit?” you speak when arriving to them. Both turn to look at you, and it takes a second before they register who stands before them. Once the realization hits, they falter a bit, seemly not knowing where to look at. 

“Wha– what did they do to you?” Edraith manages to speak, unable to hide the appreciation in his voice. 

“What do you mean?” You ask innocently, giving them a swirl in your gown, paired with a little smile playing on your lips. “I rather like this, don’t you?” 

“Oh, I’m sure you’re not the only one who likes it”, Tharon mumbles under his breath, and quickly clears his throat. You laugh merrily and do another swirl, before stopping and asking them: “You look quite out of place, what’s with the distressed looks on your faces?”

Tharon and Edraith share a look, before Tharon answers: “It’s just… We are not used to this kind of feasts. Not like we wouldn’t have attended any in the past, but all this appears to be so… Shameless”, he glances at the dance floor, and you follow his gaze to see what he means: Indeed, there is a couple dancing so close to each other you wonder how they even manage to move, their hands curled around each other in a rather questionable manner, something one would not see happening in the feasts of Lothlòrien: The male elf has placed his hands on his partner’s hips and thighs, while his companion slowly wraps her fingers around the edges of his collar, drawing him closer. You blush, while a familiar heat sweeps up your thighs and makes you shiver. 

“I guess it is their way, their habits are a bit different after all”, you remind them. 

“Yes, but…  Going  _that_ far? Should I go and remind them there are surely some more private places where to display such moves?” Tharon sounds almost mortified by the mere idea.

“Nonsense, leave them be”, you laugh and turn away, as the sight is doing some weird things to you, awakening an aching need that spreads through your body.

You fall silent, trying to distract yourself by curiously looking at everything around you: The tables on the far end of the room are filled with finest sweets and fruits. And wine, lots of wine, served from fine silver goblets that seem to disappear from the table at an accelerating speed.

“Dance with me”, you plead after some time from the two elves still standing next to you. “It’s been such a long time since I have been able to dance. Please.”

Tharon and Edraith look at each other again, and then Edraith stands forth, offering his hand to you. “With pleasure.” 

He leads you to the dance floor, just when a new song is about to start. It is a familiar tune you have heard before, and you hope you still remember the steps for the dance. Some of the dancers appear to be so drunk though that no one would probably care about a few slips in the choreography.

Edraith takes your waist and joins the moving crowd. “It’s been a while since I have danced, too”, he admits, yet his steps never falter when you pass the other couples.

“Together in trouble, then”, you laugh. For a second, a weird sensation passes over you, as if you’re being watched, but it fades quickly when some other elf approaches you from the corner of your vision, taking your hand while Edraith lets go and takes the hand of an elf lady standing behind you, disappearing in the crowd. You had forgotten that this dance includes changing partners, but gather yourself quickly and follow your new partner as he takes you deeper into the mass of swirling gowns and hearty laughter.

You’re lost in the dance, barely aware of the changing elves that spin you around, with their appreciative whispers grazing your ears, when at the last partner switch you’re snapped awake from your trance-like state: This new partner holds you tighter and much closer than any of the ones before him. Granted, many of the previous elves had been drunk, but they had still been acting like gentlemen, safe for sharing some suggestive words. This person, however, is nothing of the sorts: The minute his hands find yours, he draws you flush against him and places his arm tightly against your lower back, locking you in place while pressing your bodies together.

“I– I’m sorry,” you stutter as you suddenly feel flushed all over, “I would prefer to not to stand so close–”

An amused chuckle. “Would you really?” 

Your partner’s voice finds your ears, and sends a jolt down your body. You  _know_ that voice. Raising your head, you meet the eyes that are fixated on you. The mask does little to hide the piercing blue color of them, as they glint in the dim lighting.

You gasp for breath. “You– Your Highness–!”

“Shh.” Thranduil presses one finger against your lips, silencing you. “I believe we are past the formalities by now, are we not? Besides, tonight I am but one of the common folk, no titles to be held at value here.”

“I didn’t believe we would be even at speaking terms”, you say, trying to ignore the warmth of his fingers that hold your hand as you reluctantly hold on to his shoulder with the other. He is dressed in a long jacket, the color shifting from gold to silver with every move, paired with a mask woven of small twigs in the form of tiny horns. He isn’t wearing any of his royal jewels tonight, yet you suspect that at least some of the elves would surely recognize him nevertheless. His regal aura is prominent, even when shielded with a costume and a mask.

“And why is that, if I may ask? Did our little…  _incident_  scare you that much?” 

You blush at his words, but also feel anger building inside your chest. “You ignoring me didn’t have anything to do in the matter, or?”

He looks confused. “Ignoring you? I would beg to differ, as you have been effectively trying to escape from me in every turn after that one time in the High chambers.”

You are baffled. “I beg your pardon?  _You_  were the one to not show up the next day, or the next  _days_ , at that.” You try to pull away from him, but he doesn’t allow it, as he keeps his arm locked around you and suddenly looks angry.

“Did you not receive my message?! I couldn’t be there for your training for a few days, as I was forced to arrange meetings with the council and discuss the safety strategies. The kingdom doesn’t run on its own without a leader, as you’re well aware.”

“What message?” Your mouth goes dry. “I received no such thing.”

“I sent a note to be delivered to your chambers, telling about the time change. Am I to understand it never reached you?”

“No”, you reply, your heart starting to race. If he wasn’t avoiding you after all… Now you understand why he looked so angry the other day in the woods, when you had exchanged looks with him after a long time of not seeing each other. He must’ve thought  _you_  had thrown his offer of teaching you straight back on his face, when you hadn’t appeared. And one does no such thing, not to a king like him.

“Well, that explains  _quite_  a few things”, He says with a bitter tone. 

“Oh, is your pride hurt?”, you tease, but then go serious. “I assure you, it was  _not_  my intention. I had no idea that there had been any changes, it appears we have both been blaming each other in this.”

He must see the honesty in your eyes, as he replies after a while: “So it would seem. The next question, however, is how we are to proceed from here.”

Your head spins and makes it hard to follow the steps of the dance, but Thranduil leads you firmly and with ease, until the music stops and the dance ends. He lets go of you as claps and cheerful shouts fill the air, and leads you to the tables covered with food and drink.

“Wine?” He asks, offering you a goblet. You take it, despite your hands shaking so badly that you’re afraid of dropping the whole thing. He picks up another goblet and leads you to the less crowded area in the shadows. You try to start a conversation:

“So, um… You seem to have planned this feast for a long time, I heard it’s one of the greatest in your realm?”

“And one of the  _wildest_ ”, he replies suggestively, his eyes meeting yours over his drink as he takes a sip.

“How so?” you blurt out. He chuckles and moves closer, forcing you to back against the wall behind you, as he leans over you.

“Let’s just say that… Things tend to get  _very_ heated in a feast like this”, he teases, clearly finding your bewilderment entertaining. Not knowing what to say, you take a huge gulp of wine and almost start coughing, amusing him further. 

“Try not to choke, little one. Though, I would be more than happy to offer you some assistance in the form of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation if needed.” You blush crimson at his words and slap his arm. 

“I am not choking, don’t get ahead of yourself!” 

His laughter vibrates in the air around you. Then the current dance ends, and people start to gather up for the next one. Thranduil takes the goblet from your hands and takes it to a nearby table with his own, and returns to you. “May I have this dance?” He takes a bow, his eyes never leaving yours, while a smirk rises to his face, offering you a challenge. You take it.

“Of course”, you reply with a little smile and bend your knees for a graceful little curtsy, before extending your hand for him. He takes it, and once again you’re being swept away in a dance that has a quicker and more powerful tempo than the previous one. 

“I have been thinking…” He starts, giving you a look. “Since it appears that we have a bone to pick, so to speak, and both seem to have an interest in challenges, may I suggest we play a little game?” His voice drops low at the word  _game_ , and you feel a delicious shiver running down your spine.

“And what would that be?” You ask and gasp as he bends you over his extended arm, dipping you backwards so that your head falls back, offering him a good glimpse of the skin on your neck before he sweeps you back up and swirls you around.

“Call it a game of hide-and-seek, if you will, with a little twist.” His grin deepens. “I will be the seeker. You can hide to any part of my realm, as long as you stay inside the gates. Should you manage to remain hidden from me until dawn, I shall offer you one thing you desire, anything within my power.”

You swallow. “And if you catch me before it?”

His grin grows almost malicious now. “I shall have whatever  _I_ desire, and  _you_  will offer it to me.” His hand that is flexed around your waist travels lower, grazing your hip and ending up on your thigh, grasping it tightly. Your breath catches in your throat, making you unable to resist him when his hand moves sideways, trying to find a gap between the folds of your silk skirt so he could get closer to your skin. His touch burns you through the flimsy material, as does the look in his eyes when they travel down your face and towards your cleavage. 

“That is… a generous offer”, you whisper, trying to find your voice again. He lifts his eyebrow in return.

“Do we have a deal? An offer for an offer?”

You think about it for a minute, although your inner voice is practically  _screaming_ at you to take the chance. The excitement starts to bubble inside you, and before you know how to stop yourself, you answer:  
  
“Yes.”

At that, he bends down to kiss you, with his hands pressing against you shamelessly and without hesitation. Just as quickly, he releases you and whispers into your ear, while your knees are still wobbling from the kiss: “I will give you a head start, but do keep in mind… Once you leave this room, the game is on, and  _no_  power in the world will stop me from catching you.”

“Perhaps I manage to escape?”, you dare, staring him in the eye. He chuckles, not answering to that.

“I suggest you to take your leave, and quickly… Or would you like to surrender at once, here and now?”

You give out a laugh that apparently causes a reaction in him as his look grows darker, promising all kinds of things. You lean closer, and whisper against his lips: 

“Never.”

Then, you push your hands against his chest, escaping from his arms and running through the crowd and up the stairs. You don’t stop before you’re at the doors, where you turn to look at the dance floor.

He isn’t there anymore.

You hear the echo of his words whispering in your mind:  _No power in the world will stop me from catching you.  
_

Drawing breath, you turn your back to the room, lift your skirts and  _run._

 

_\- End of chapter 10 -_


	11. "...Why do you linger in the shadows?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, adult content (+18)

 

 

_Thranduil walked through the crowd, his mind set on his prey that had just left the room. He had seen the change in her expression when she had turned back to the dance floor and noticed he was no longer there, her long curls brushing against her nearly bare shoulders as she had run through the doors, in hopes of escaping him.  
_

_But this was his realm. He knew every corner, every hidden part of it. There was no place for her to hide in.  
_

_He chuckled. “Oh, little one, you won’t get far tonight.”  
_

_He had lost the second he had laid his eyes on her for the first time. When he had attacked at those foul creatures that were trying to get to her, he hadn’t imagined that the first emotions that would peak inside him upon meeting her gaze would be those of odd curiosity and even fondness.  
_

_The emotions had shaken him so deeply that, in fear of them, he had acted outwards hostile towards her, worrying that his sudden flash of emotions would be costly for him.  
_

_Yet he hadn’t been able to rid himself of his growing interest as he had listened her story of why she had been sent to his realm in the first place. He had felt involuntary admiration towards her bravery when she had tried to fight on her own, as in his memories the common elves of Lothlórien were far less experienced with the matters of war and combat. After all,_ he _had made sure no one would pass his people’s skills when it came to that - not to mention his realm was the only elven realm that had dungeons for prisoners. The others were too fond of their reputations as peaceful havens to allow anyone to be held as a prisoner within their borders. He, however, had no such luxury. Despite retreating to a safer location multiple times, he and his realm had faced multiple invasions. Without the powers of any of the elven rings for protection, he was more vulnerable, and the enemy knew it. It had always known. He couldn’t afford to get distracted by anything or_ anyone _.  
_

_Which had proven to be all but easy - this unfamiliar little elf drew his attention to her no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. Even the times in the dining hall had been like that - despite sitting further away from her every time, he had been able to catch some of her words when she had been speaking with one of the servants, who appeared to have grown to become a dear friend of hers. Their discussions varied greatly, jumping from dresses and other things to some more serious matters. He could only admire how she was able to shift between their topics with ease, first laughing joyfully and in the next second frowning while trying to find a proper argument to the matter at hand.  
_

_Thranduil had found their personal combats enjoyable - both in the verbal and physical sense. She was rarely left short with words to shoot back at him, not to forget her willpower when trying to fight him. What she lacked in experience was compensated by her fierceness.  
_

_And oh, fierce she was - to the point of infuriating him. She was like the wind, impossible to control, able to either caress him with gentleness or to unleash the storm of her emotions on him. He had received a fair share of the latter - and he had found himself liking it. Whenever he saw the fire burning in her eyes, he wanted nothing more but to kiss her senseless.  
_

_Or even more. That had been the hardest part for Thranduil himself to accept. But the way she had moulded against his body during their kisses-  It was impossible to not think there could be something more. Finally, in his thoughts, he had given up, accepting whatever might come -  but then it had appeared that the little vixen had started playing with him. When he had entered the High chambers again after a few days of their last encounter, she hadn’t been there. For hours he had waited, on several evenings. He remembered the fury he had been in while finally leaving the chambers for the last time, vowing to himself that this wouldn’t remain unsolved.  
_

_She had been skillful in avoiding him: weeks had gone past without a glimpse of her, and he had kept himself busy with the matters of the realm - until he had encountered her in the woods on his way to hunt, noticing her kneeled on the field, accompanied with one of her guardians. Thranduil had seen the way she touched him while tending to the wound, while a sudden pang of jealousy had surged through his own veins. He had heard the silent words that little slip of a boy had spoken to her, confirming his growing suspicions that there were more emotions involved in the boy’s matter than just casual guardian protectiveness. The question was, what did_ she _feel? He hadn’t dared to confront them in front of his subjects, no matter how hard he had wanted to.  
_

_Finally, when his growing frustration was about to get the best of him, he had spotted her amongst the dancers at the feast. Despite the mask that most likely hid her identity from the other elves around her, it couldn’t fool him - he knew the way her body moved, as he had spent quite some time watching it during the training: It was impossible to not to recognize the curve of her hips and her graceful moves as she had passed from one elf to another, never staying too long with any of them. Still, he had felt jealousy pinching his heart with its sharp needles at the sight of other elves touching her, causing him to join the dance without a second thought. Then, she had been in his arms, and he had had no intentions of letting go.  
_

_Funny as it was, he had eventually allowed her to leave - but only momentarily. She had teased him enough. Now, it would be his turn, and he meant to make the most of it._

__✽ ✽ ✽_   
_

The passageways are now quiet, with several candles already burned out and the remaining ones casting barely enough light for you to see where you’re going. You hope that the darkness will offer you some protection. Although, knowing your chaser, it might do little to help you now.

As you run over a bridge, you grow to realize this game was never meant to be fair. The sun would already rise much later than usually at this time of the year - which also means that he has more hours to spend on searching you. Not to mention that this is his realm, and he sure knows it better than you do.

Turning from a corner, you glance behind you, trying to see if he’s catching up on you. 

Wrong move. You see a shadow moving past the candles so fast that their flames die out, leaving the far end of the corridor in complete darkness. With your heartbeat pounding in your ears, you run towards a hallway where you’re met with several passageways. Which one to choose? You’re not even sure where you are at the moment, as you’ve spent too much time on wondering what will happen if you’re caught, rather than coming up with a plan. 

Desperate, as you have no time to waste, you take the corridor to the right, hoping it’s not a dead end. 

Sprinting past a tapestry, you come to a halt. You’ve seen this tapestry before -  it hangs somewhere near the library. Not knowing what else to do, you take off to the direction you believe to lead to the library doors. 

A few minutes after, you see the double doors to your left, and use every ounce of hope to beg that they would still be open. You grab one of the handles and pull. Luckily, the door swings silently outwards, while you let out a relieved sigh and squeeze through the opening, silently shutting the door after you.

A few candles are still burning in the lanterns, so it isn’t completely dark in there. The front of the room has a few tables and chairs accompanied with a decorated fireplace, while the shelves filled with books and artifacts take up the rest of the massive space, creating a little maze of aisles. You walk hastily through them, trying to remember the layout of the room, when you hear a sound coming from the doors. Frozen to your spot, you listen.

First, there’s nothing. Then, you hear the door falling shut - accompanied with  the metallic sound of a lock being turned.

His silent laughter reaches your ears. “You are making this far too easy for me, little one… You should’ve known better than to choose a room with only  _one_  exit.”

You curse under your breath but clamp a hand over your mouth right after. Not knowing how close he is, he might be able to hear you. As silently as possible, you sneak further away in between the shelves, hoping to find a place to hide in. 

“I know you’re there… Lingering in the shadows.” You hear his voice echoing silently in the room, making it impossible to identify where exactly it is coming from. “Do not be frightened, I shall give you my oath that you won’t be hurt… Much.” 

Your whole body is trembling now, triggered by equal amounts of fear and anticipation. You can’t hear his footsteps, so you can only guess his location as you move in a circle, trying to get back to the doors while drawing him further inside the aisles.

Glancing from behind one of the shelves in the far corner, you see that the way to the doors is clear. He’s most certainly still nearby, but it’s the best chance you’ll probably get. Without glancing back, you race towards the doors. When you reach them, you let out a few incoherent words: There’s no key. You try to pull the handles, but the doors won’t move.

And then, it’s too late. You sense him behind you.

You turn on your heels and see Thranduil standing next to one of the tables, leaning his hip against it. He makes no move towards you, but remains in his place, chuckling. 

“Have you lost something?” He teases, showing you the the key he’s spinning in his long, lean fingers.

“I guess you won’t be kind enough to just hand it over and let me leave?” You answer, your eyes searching for escape routes, but there are none.

“I  _could_  be kind and do just that… However, I think I will choose to be anything  _but_  kind tonight.” He shifts and places the key on the table, with a dangerous glint in his eyes as he takes off his mask and throws it next to the key. Your limbs quiver under his gaze that travels slowly over your body, drinking in the sight of you. 

“If I didn’t know better, I would say you picked that dress solelyfor the purpose of testing my self-discipline… What a ravishing sight you are.” 

At that, he strides towards you. Reacting, you try to get away, but find yourself stopped short - His fingers grab the delicate chains that had been wrapped around your arms ealier but were now hanging loosely from your wrists. Gripping them tight, he pulls you backwards. You let out a startled yelp when he slams you against the shelves.

“I should thank the person who came up with the idea of dressing you in chains… Now, what should I do with them? Tie you up, perhaps? Chains can be such…  _interesting_  things to be played with”, he grins at you. Without another word, he gathers all the chains in his left hand and pulls them over your head, forcing your hands to follow. Wrapping the chains around the foot of a lantern holder attached on the shelf, he leans closer while shamelessly pushing his hips against yours, making it well aware that he is, indeed, aroused.  _Very_  much so. His fingers curl beneath your mask, removing and casting it aside. The cool air of the room does little to cool down your blushing cheeks.

“As it appears, I came out as the winner. You gave me a promise - and I shall see you to keep it.”

Thranduil’s lips close over yours, less gentle this time, fueled by his feelings of hunger and frustration as he forces your lips open, claiming your mouth the way he did once before. With your hands tied above your head, you’re completely at his mercy, and you can only writhe under the touch of his hands as they slide over you, stopping at your breasts as he caresses them before moving on. His other hand travels lower on your thigh, gripping at the fabric so tightly you can hear a tearing sound as the thin layers give way, baring the side of your leg for him. With hasty eagerness, his fingers snake their way beneath the fabric, grazing the inside of your thigh and -  _Oh._

Thranduil hears your gasp and makes a hoarse sound, while sucking at the skin on your throat. “Sensitive, aren’t you?” His palm closes over your mound as you shiver and push forward against him, lost in the sensation, wanting more. His fingers push even harder in turn, lighting up a flame that burns deep inside your core, engulfing you in its heat, paired with the heat that now radiates from him. 

“You won’t be leaving this room before I have you screaming my name,  _hiril vuin_ , that I swear”, Thranduil whispers into your ear as his teeth graze your earlobe, moving to pick at the sensitive skin behind it as you tilt your head backwards. ”No matter who might have touched you in the past, I will make sure that after tonight you won’t remember  _anyone_  or  _anything_  else except for me…” he strokes you in a way that makes you tremble against him, “…and my touch.”

His fingers wander further, stopping at your entrance, while his other hand presses against your back to hold you in place as you squirm.

“I shall give you what you need… But first, you must ask for it.  _Beg_ meto do it, and I  _will_  deliver.”

“P-please”, you whimper, with every bit of your resistance melted away long ago, as your body burns with your need for him.

He clicks his tongue, answering with a tone of mocking disapproval: “Oh, no, little one… I know you are capable of much more than that.“ 

You groan in turn, pushing your hips forward to meet his hand, but he moves out of the way, circling your sensitive parts with his fingers while still denying you to have them where you so desperately need them to be. “A-a, not yet. Not before you beg me…  _Properly_.”

It is yet another challenge, you realize as his fingers tease at your opening, without entering. He wants to see who gives in first. You know your chances are running low already, but then, he gives you a slight  _push_ , and your head spins out of control.

“Please, my lord!  _Thranduil!_  Please!”

He lets out a sound that can only be described as a growl, and in the next second his fingers find their way inside of you, drawing a startled gasp from your lips that then turns into a moan. You try to silence yourself by biting your teeth together, but he lifts his head from your neck and stares you in the eye. “Do not  _dare_  to hold back - I want to hear the sounds of your desire filling this room.” He enhances his words with a push of his fingers, and you find yourself incapable of staying silent, gasping and moaning in rhythm with his movements as his fingers curl and tease. His thumb presses against your hidden pearl, emitting a scream from your lips before he closes in to kiss you, then moves down to your throat and bites on your skin, marking you as his.

You can feel something building up inside of you, demanding its release while Thranduil leans his head back to watch you unravel beneath his touch, his eyes filled with lust, lips parted as he whispers:

“Come for me, little one - do not hold back. Come.  _Now._ ”

With a twist of his hand, Thranduil sends you over the edge, your body spasming around his fingers as you cry out his name. He holds you tight against him, planting a kiss on your neck at every quake of your body, soothing you as you slowly come down from the peak of your release.

While you’re still panting, you feel his fingers withdrawing from you and open your mouth to protest, but he silences you. “We are far from done. There’s more to come. Much more.” He breathes heavily now, raising his fingers to his lips to taste the glistering liquid on them, the pupils of his blue eyes dilated so that they look almost black now. Without breaking eye contact, he works with the chains that hold your hands, releasing them so that you’re able to wrap them around his broad shoulders as he lifts you up and carries you to the nearest table. There, he almost throws you on it, sliding his arms up your legs and lifting your skirts out of the way. Your other leg closes around his hip, pulling him closer as he leans over you, his hands sliding over the bodice of your dress while trying to get to the lacing behind your back.

His lips find their way to your cleavage, drawing needy sounds from your lips, when you feel him suddenly freezing against you. For a second, he stands still, but then you hear his voice, now unrecognizable:

_“Where_ did you get that _?!”_

You don’t understand him at first, then lift your head and notice him staring at your breasts - no, he’s staring at the star-shaped pendant that lies on your chest, previously covered by your dress. It must have slipped upwards when he threw you on your back on the table.

There’s no time for you to say a word, as in a flash of movement his fingers find the chain and  _pull._ He forces you to rise by dragging you up by the chain, while it digs painfully into the skin on your neck. Thranduil’s other hand clasps around your jaw, lifting your head so that you have no other choice but to look him in the eye. They look wild, with multiple emotions racing through them at once, the most pressing one being fury. His fingers squeeze you harder, making it difficult to breathe as he growls:

_“Why are you wearing my wife’s necklace?!”_

_\- End of chapter 11 -_


	12. "Where will you go?"

 

 

Thranduil’s grip tightens, almost choking you now. “You had the  _nerve_  to return to that chamber, to steal this necklace?”

You gasp for breath, trying to get the words out: “I-I swear, I have no idea what you’re talking about, please–”

His jaw clenches as he bares his teeth, almost spitting out his next words: 

“So, it would seem that you are not just a thief, but also a  _liar._ ”

“I’m no liar! You have to believe me! “

“You thought it would be entertaining, didn’t you? To try to see how far you would be able to fool me, while playing with my feelings?”

His look is full of anger, but above all else  _hurt,_ so intense that for a second you think you see the hint of a tear in the corner of his eye. 

“No–!”

You feel the chain snapping at his pull, releasing your neck from its painful embrace. The pendant and its broken chain now hang from his fingers, as he moves away from you.

“Get out.  _Now_.”

You try not to sob, but can’t stop the tears that rise in your eyes. “Thranduil, please–”

_“GET OUT!”_ He yells, his face the image of pain. He grits his teeth as if he has been physically wounded, while turning away from you. Without another word, you slide down from the table, blindly grab the key and rush to the doors. While you turn the lock, you hear a thundering blow - turning back, you see he has hit his fist square against the frame of the fireplace, his whole body hunched forward as he leans his hands against the stones. Your mind is filled with questions that are yet without an answer, but you can’t bring yourself to voice any of them, not now. With shaking hands, you pull the heavy doors open, leaving the room.

Tears blur your vision while you walk through the empty corridors, with cool air sweeping against your bare thigh as you sob and try to hold the remains of your skirt together. Pain sears through you with every step, despite not being caused by a physical source, but a mental one.

When you think you’ve wandered far enough, you stop, having trouble breathing through your sobs. Everything starts to spin and you realize you’re hyperventilating, forcing yourself to breathe slower and deeper, until your vision clears up again. You have no idea for how long you’ve stayed there, when you see light approaching and turn sideways, trying to hide your torn gown. 

Erchiel turns from the corner, with a small lantern in her hand. She stops at once when noticing you. There is a moment of silence, before she speaks:

“Didn’t go as well as expected, I assume?”

The look on her face can only be described as deep contempt, as she stares back at you. Stuttering, you ask: “Wha-what do you mean?”, while you try to wipe the tears away from your eyes, to see her better.

“I hope this serves as a good reminder to  _stay away_ from our King. I was hoping it wouldn’t have to come to this, but, as it appears, there was no other way.”

At that, your thoughts reveal you the pattern of a horrifying image. “It was you.  _You_  gave me that necklace.”

“That I did. I was hoping that a little  _reminder_ would snap his Highness back in his senses.” She crosses her arms as well as she can while holding the lantern, straightening her back. “Watching at you now, it appears to have been quite effective.”

A sudden flash of a memory rises into your head: The little statue, a bust image, placed on the table in a chamber where you hadn’t been supposed to be. The pendant had been hanging around its neck, but you hadn’t registered it until now. “But… how? He locked the doors to the chamber..”

Erchiel scoffs. “He didn’t have the only remaining key, oh, no. Didn’t you know? I worked as a chambermaid for the late Queen.” She reaches into her pocket, pulling out a silver key shaped in the form of a leaf. “It was easy to get back there and take the pendant. It is highly unacceptable to steal from your Queen and King, but..” she shifts uneasily, “…considering the circumstances, it was necessary. My lady deserves better than having his husband running around with little temptresses like  _you_.”

You feel like you’ve been punched in the throat. “How dare you! I’m  _nothing_  like that! He approached me, and–”

“And what??  _What_  do you possibly imagine to happen between you two? Despite being deceased, my lady shall be reborn in Valinor. And once his Highness sails to the West, they shall be reunited - There is  _no_  place for you in it!”

Your heart shatters at her words, crushing all the remaining hope you still had nestled inside of you. She won’t stop there, though:

“So, I have a kind suggestion for you - stay far away from his Highness, or I’llpersonally make sure you will be arrested for theft, with all the evidence.  _Try me_ , and it might happen that this key”, she lifts the silvery thing, showing it to you, “possibly finds its way into  _your_ belongings. We do not take thefts lightly in this kindgom, as you may find out.”

Without another word, she turns her back on you and walks away, taking the light with her and leaving you alone in the dark. 

 

When you finally reach your chambers, you rush in, close the doors and try to remove your gown, sobbing in desperation when the lacing refuses to come undone at first. When you finally manage to rid yourself of the garment, your legs give way as you fall on your knees on the rug-covered stone floor. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you allow yourself to break, crying out all the painful feelings that are eating you inside out.

_Indeed, what did I even think? He could never love someone like me…  
_

But you can’t stop thinking about all the times, little stolen moments, when you had noticed him watching you, probably thinking you wouldn’t notice. Had it all been just physical affection? Right now, you are uncertain of everything. 

Shaking, you get back up and walk to your bathroom, finding it dark and unwelcoming, as there is no bath prepared for you this time. Despite the water in the pool being ice-cold, you walk into it, its icy touch driving away every memory of the heated touch of his hands. You take a wash cloth and rub your skin, absently and without purpose.

Terrifying thoughts plague your mind - what is supposed to happen later? Thranduil had sent you away for now, but what if he wasn’t done with the matter yet? There might be a good chance you’d be facing the dungeons, for a theft you never committed. Granted, you could expose Erchiel, but it is your word against hers, and the King is so outraged for the moment that he might not listen to anything you have to say.

As you rise from the pool and walk back to your room, grabbing a towel from a basket placed there, you happen to glance in the mirror hanging in front of you and stop. Your eyes are puffy from all the spilt tears, streaks of them still running down your cheeks, but it’s not what stops you - it’s the small bruise on your neck, left by his teeth. You try to silence a sob that shakes your body, almost dropping you back on your knees. There is no removing of that mark before it fades on its own, but you know that everytime you’re forced to look at it, you’ll be reminded by what you had for a fleeting moment, before it was all taken away. And it hurts. It hurts so much you’re not sure how to bear it, being reminded by him all the time. It wouldn’t be enough to just avoid him now, no - every corner of this realm would remind you of him, never allowing you to forget.

The realization dawns as smoothly as your desperation is taken over by cold insensitivity, assembling your mind and heart back together for a while. _  
_

_I have to leave._

 

__✽ ✽ ✽_ _

 

It doesn’t take you long to change to your training gear that is still hanging inside one of the wardobes and pack your few belongings inside a small bag. Once you’re sure there is nothing else left in the room, you walk out of the doors, not looking back. Your feelings try to catch up on you again, but you shove them back, refusing to focus on them right now.

Making your way through the kitchen, you find it empty. All of the servants must be at the feast by now, as it is quite late already and the feast is supposed to go on for the entire night. You manage to find some bread and other supplies, probably leftovers, stucked neatly in the corner of a large shelf. Stuffing everything inside your little bag, you leave the room, only stopping to adjust the belt that ties your sword around your hips. You have no other weapons with you, except for the small dagger still tucked firmly against your leg inside your boot, but you feel no need for more. You’re supposed to stay hidden and not pick up fights where you’d need to defend yourself.

You sneak towards the far end of the corridor that leads to the outer wall and the border, kneeling behind the pillar as one of the guards walks past your hiding place. Although he disappears from your sight, you stay where you are, counting the time until the guard appears again. You need to find out how long their routes are, which will also give you some idea of how much time you have to slip past them while they’re elsewhere. In this case, it takes almost ten minutes for the guard to return. 

As he disappears again, you run to the wall, swinging yourself over it. You start to climb down, stopping only to search for footholds from the jagged edges, hurrying as you have no time to waste.

You lower yourself to the ground and jump behind a pile of stones just in time, as you hear the guard returning. Without glancing down from the wall, he moves forward, allowing you to keep going. You stay in the shadows of the night while making your way down along the river. There will be another wall further away, also guarded, but you have no other option but to try to get past it.

Sounds of laughter reach you, and you peak from behind a tree: There are border guards, sharing bottles of wine and wobbling around the wall, clearly  intoxicated. Apparently, they have received their share of the feast’s beverages, despite having to stay outside for the whole night. This might be just the distraction you need.

Searching from the ground, you pick up a piece of stone about the size of your fist, and weigh it on your hand for a moment. You will only have one shot. Aiming, you swing your arm, releasing the stone and sending it flying through the air.

It hits the target - you had aimed for the bottles placed on the edge of the wall right behind the guards, knocking over all of the bottles and sending them crashing down on the rocks. The drunk guards jump up and start to argue with each other, blaming each other for knocking over the precious wine. While they’re occupied, you slip over the wall and drop yourself on the other side, sliding back into the shadows, the arguing yells of the guards disappearing behind you.

These lands are unfamiliar to you, but you try to recall the image of a map you saw some time ago while reading certain books in the library. They had contained information about this specific area of  _Rhovanion_ , paired with old maps of roads that most likely would not exist anymore. 

The river, however, is a whole another thing: It still runs through its old path, leading you away from the Woodland realm and towards the only place that might offer you refuge right now: The town of men. 

 

_\- End of chapter 12 -_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhovanion = Wilderland, a northeastern area of Middle-earth that also includes Mirkwood.


	13. Precious Beyond Measure

 

 

_With the pendant stuck between the cold stone and the flesh of his palm, Thranduil closes his eyes, biting back the tears, not allowing them to emerge. He has been avoiding these feelings for years, he would not allow them to overwhelm him now. No.  
_

_But, this time, it proves to be more difficult than ever. He has been escaping his feelings for too long, and they demand to be felt.  
_

_He cannot remain in this room, but feels the need to withdraw into the peace of his own quarters. With every step, his restlessness grows, and by the time he reaches the doors to his chambers he is more than ready to rip his heart out with his bare hands, in order to prevent himself from feeling_ anything _.  
_

_Shutting the doors, he leans against them. He raises his hand and eyes the star-shaped jewel, the broken chain entwined through his fingers.  
_

_“Why? Why now? And why_ this _?!”  
_

_With the anger spreading through him once more, Thranduil casts the pendant away, hearing it clinking against the stone floor. Without glancing back, he heads to the shelves and pulls out a bottle of wine, downing it faster than what might be deemed possible. It does little to intoxicate him, but it might offer him the peace of mind he so desperately seeks, quieting the unwanted turmoil.  
_

_After placing the empty bottle on the table, he walks to his bed, sitting on the edge of it and throwing himself over the bedspread. Thranduil’s hand covers his face as he lies there, without thinking, absent of feelings, as he tries to find rest. His mind refuses it at first, with the feeling of a constant pressure nagging in the back of his head.  
_

_He feels himself drifting closer to sleep, wavering at the edges of his consciousness, and it is at this state that his mind suddenly lets go of its long-guarded control, allowing the pain to return, with flashes from the past: Memories he has so desperately tried to forget. But there isn’t a single device nor solution that would allow Thranduil to rid those memories from his mind. They have been carved into his very being, relentlessly bringing back all the images, the sensations…_

_The feel of her body as she had collapsed into his arms, her blood spilling over his armor as he had leaned over her._

_The feel of cold steel against his fingers as he had pulled out the dagger that had pierced her heart.  
_

_The echo of the last words shared between them, before life had left her body: “I am sorry…”  
_

_Tears run down Thranduil’s cheeks.  
_

_“Silevreneth…”_

_And, as if her name was a summon, he feels the world shift - with her words, not made from any of his distant memories, reverberating through his head:_

_“My love.”  
_

___✽ ✽ ✽_ _  
_

__It isn’t the first time this happens._ Long, long time ago, on the nights they hadn’t been able to be with each other, they had passed thoughts and images between them. Even feelings, often lined with longing for the other person, far away from them.   
_

_But after her death, there had been nothing… Until now.  
_

_A feeling of curiosity that has nothing to do with the feelings of his own sweeps through Thranduil, both foreign and familiar at the same time. ”…You?”_

_“It has been such a long time.”  
_

_“But… How?”  
_

_“It is by your surrender that I am finally able to speak with you. So much time has passed, and yet you have avoided even the mere thought of me, or the connection we once shared.” a slight trace of her dissatisfaction curls around the edges of the words.  
_

_“It is the mere thought of you that is still close of tearing my soul apart… Can you really blame me for avoiding all of it?”  
_

_She doesn’t answer immediately, yet her presence circles him, wondering, searching.  
_

_“I cannot linger for long. I am not strong enough to hold the connection for more than a little while.”  
_

__Thranduil shivers. “There was a time when I thought about the words I would speak to you, the apologies I would give, if I had the chance to meet you once more…”_  
_

_Her compassion meets his senses, comforting him. “You have nothing to apologize for, my love. _And there are no words that could change the things that happened that day, you know it just as well as I do.”_   Then, her words turn sad. “You know I cannot return. The past, our past, has wounded  me too deeply, possibly beyond healing. But you…” A slight touch, almost like a ghost of a hand, passes over his cheek. “…you have the chance to move on.”  
_

_Thranduil is filled with agony, his words breaking as he answers: “How am I supposed to do such a thing? Perhaps I, too, am beyond healing?”  
_

_“You know that it is not true.” Her tender feelings caress Thranduil’s whole being, filling him with a tiny sparkle of hope. “I feel the change in you. New emotions, rising from a place in your soul you never thought to be able to get in touch with again.”  
_

_Realizing what she means, Thranduil freezes. “Do not talk to me of_ her _!”  
_

_“Oh, but why wouldn’t I? You do feel for her, am I not right? Why not start over, with a whole new life?”  
_

_“She is but a thief, not only attempting to steal the gems of the realm but also my heart!”  
_

_“Careful, darling,” sadness floods over her words, “not everything is what it seems.”  
_

_“Why are we even speaking about this? There are so many other things we should_   _be talking about–”  
_

_“I offer you the chance to move on, to free yourself from the darkness of your past. ”  
_

_Tears stain his cheeks. “And what if I find myself unable to do so?”  
_

__“You need to let go of me, my darling King. You need to let go of all that guilt you have kept inside your heart for all these years.”_  
_

_Her presence begins to fade, her voice growing weaker. “I have found my peace, it is time for you to find yours…”  
_

_Thranduil tries to desperately hold on to the traces of her, not wanting her to leave. “Silevreneth, please…”  
_

_There is a last touch on his lips, the ghost of love long gone, doomed to disappear once more. “Farewell, my love…”  
_

_Then, she is gone, and Thranduil is left alone, accompanied only by his own aching heart.  
_

___ _

___✽ ✽ ✽_ _  
_

_There is a loud sound that snaps Thranduil right awake. One of the guards has entered the room, looking astonished to find the King still sleeping._

_“Apologies, my lord. One of the servants is asking for an audience.”  
_

_Thranduil brings his fingers over his eyes, finding them moist and quickly trying to clean them as he does his best to ignore how shaky his fingers are. How long has he been sleeping? “What time is it?”  
_

_“Almost noon, my lord.” The guard looks restless. “I wouldn’t want to hurry you, but the servant says that her matter is an urgent one.”  
_

_Thranduil sighs impatiently. “Very well, bring her in.” He rises from his bed and adjusts his clothes, before the guard returns with another elf. She curtsies before speaking:  
_

_“I am very sorry to disturb you like this, my lord, but I’m afraid something might have happened..”  
_

_“What?” Thranduil feels the unease growing within him. “What is this about?”  
_

_“Your guest from Lothlórien, my lord. She has not been seen since yesterday, and no one seems to know where she is.”  
_

_That’s when he recognizes her: it is the servant that the girl had befriended - Emlineth, wasn’t that her name?  
_

_“Have you searched everywhere? You are absolutely sure she is not just merely hiding somewhere?”  
_

_The servant looks confused. “Hiding? Why would she be in hiding, my lord?”  
_

_Thranduil closes his eyes, cursing himself for letting that slip. No one except him and the girl knew what had happened last night, and he would make sure no one would ever find out. “It matters not. Have you searched every possible place? The cellars? High chambers? The river caves?”  
_

_“Yes, my lord. There is no sign of her.” She looks deeply worried. “I found her gown from the floor of her chambers, but nothing else.”  
_

_At the mention of the floor, Thranduil’s gaze shifts towards the ground, searching for the tiny object he had thrown there earlier.  
_

_Which is nowhere to be found.  
_

_“Where is it!?” His voice booms through the room as he rises on his feet, searching the floor with his eyes.  
_

_“What, my lord?!”  
_

_“There was a necklace on the floor, who has taken it?!”  
_

_“We-we cannot tell, my lord, we have not been able to keep proper track of the visitors because of the feast…”  
_

_Both the guard and the servant shrink back at the sight of their King, now furious, with a fire blazing in his eyes as he turns towards them. “Arrest and bring me the two companions of our guest, at once! Someone in this realm knows where she is, and I_ will _find it out, one way or another. _My patience has been tested long enough. No more!_ “  
_

_Then, Thranduil takes one of his swords from where they lay, placed next to his armor, and strides out of the doors, his fury rising with every step he takes.  
_

_Someone would be held responsible for all this, and they would not escape without consequences._ _  
_

 

_\- End of chapter 13 -_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Silevreneth = One Who Glitters Like a White Crystal
> 
> Author’s notes:  
> A quick word, in case some of you aren’t familiar with Tolkien’s less famous texts - There has been some general discussion about the possible use of “telepathy” between elves (and the other beings of Middle-earth), in the form of ósanwë. I can’t recall all of it, but it was argued that all elves would have had the ability to use ósanwë up to a certain degree. It was said to be quite difficult and rarely used, but the ability was amplified if the two communicators shared some kind of an emotional link. Even then, it could be used only when both parties were “open” and willing to communicate. Which, in this case, Thranduil certainly wasn’t until he “opened” his mind to his memories and his late wife, thus permitting Silevreneth to enter his thoughts from the other side.  
> It was also said that ósanwë did not use any actual words and was, in fact, the opposite of spoken languages (as it was a direct way to pass emotions, memories and whatnot), but as this is my fictional story, I let that slip a bit.


	14. Interrogation

 

 

_It has been days since the girl went missing. Thranduil paces around his throne room, indecisive about what to do with his “companions”  when Feren, one of his lieutenants, runs towards them and up the stairs, stopping in front of him.  
_

_“Have the trackers found anything?” Thranduil asks, his posture stiff.  
_

_“No, my lord. They have searched everywhere around the borders but can’t find a trail.” Feren sounds apologetic, wary of his King’s temper that seems to have grown even worse in such a short time.  
_

_Thranduil’s fingers press around the hilt of his sword, his knuckles turning white at the effort. “Am I to understand that_ noone _saw or found anything? You truly expect me to believe that?”_

_A loud snort comes from behind his back, and he turns to face Edraith and Tharon, both standing with their hands tied behind their backs. The source of noise, however, had been Edraith.  
_

_“Seems not everyone lives up to the reputation of the Mirkwood elves, if they can’t even find one lost girl from their own forest.”_

_“Are you accusing my trackers of being_ sloppy _?” Thranduil’s voice takes a dangerous tone._

 _Edraith smirks and is about to answer, when Tharon brings his boot over Edraith’s toes, stomping down hard. Edraith yelps and turns to him, as Tharon gives him a warning look, the signal clear:_ Don’t you dare.

_Then, Tharon speaks to the King. “With all respect, your Highness, but she has spent most of her life sneaking outside the borders of Lothlórien for her little adventures – and has never once been caught.”  
_

___Thranduil paces in front of the two elves, his sword out on display and sweeping dangerously close to them every time he turns slowly on his heels._ _  
_

_“She is not familiar with these lands… Where would you expect her to go? Aside from running aimlessly to any possible direction.”  
_

  _“As we already discussed about this - days ago, just to remind you - we have no information to provide. If she truly meant to leave, she never told us anything.” Edraith shrugs, twisting his arms in discomfort since the ropes around his wrists are wrapped too tight.  
_

_“I find it hard to believe. Very much so, actually.” Thranduil directs his piercing look at Edraith in particular, who stares right back without averting his gaze._ _“You three seemed very close, it strikes odd that you wouldn’t share your worries with each other.”_  
  
“Is there something we should  _have known about then?” Edraith’s voice silences him at once. “Something that might’ve happened to her, of which she was too afraid to speak with us?”_  


_Thranduil feels a burst of cold wrapping around his heart like a fist, causing it to skip a beat while Tharon looks at his friend in utter shock. “What are you suggesting there?”  
_

_“Nothing in particular. Just wondering.” His eyes narrow as he looks at the King, who in turn refuses to meet his gaze any longer.  
_

_As he does not answer, Edraith pushes forward, barely hiding the contempt in his voice: “So, did something happen? Or is it now a guarded secret of the realm, only to be spoken with the high-ranking officials?”  
_

_In a flash, Thranduil’s sword is directed at him, the tip touching Edraith’s chest who freezes on the spot, not daring to move. The sharp point presses against his clothing, only barely leaving the fabric intact as the King leans closer, hissing his next words as a warning:  
_

_“I am the one to ask questions here, Edraith Amathion. You are forgetting your place. See yourself to regain it, and quickly, or I shall help you to step down - with my sword.”  
_

_Judging by the look in his eyes, Edraith seems to believe he wouldn’t shy away from using that blade on him, and snaps his mouth shut at once.  
_

_“You will remain imprisoned until the girl - or the necklace - is found.” He lowers his sword, sliding it into its scabbard as he leaves, shouting his final words from the bridge: “Enjoy your time in the dungeons.”  
_

____✽ ✽ ✽_ _ _  
_

You wrap a blanket around your shoulders, looking out the window at the attic where you’ve found shelter. First rays of sunshine announce the arrival of a new day in Dale, with the merchants hurrying up the alley far below you, making their way to the marketplace in order to secure good spots for their sales. 

You had made sure to stay hidden upon your arrival, entering the city in the middle of the night. Once there, you had begun to search for a place to stay in. All inns and abandoned shacks had been out of question, those would be the first places for the trackers to check out. And there would be trackers, of that you are certain. As this is the only city nearby, it would be only logical to expect them to come search from here. So you have taken precautions, finding a place from higher ground so that you can observe your surroundings while staying out of sight. You had found this attic while running across the rooftops - the family living downstairs didn’t use it regularly, judging by the amount of dust that covered everything, so you had decided to stay for now. 

You had slept poorly the night before, with flashes of old nightmares tormenting you once more. Weirdly enough, the odd dreams had subsided during your stay in Mirkwood, but now they were back. Although, rather than coming up with new images, your dreams were replays from the sceneries you had already seen. Most disturbing one being the vision of burning Mirkwood - the reason you are now sitting here. It had been the starting point of this journey. Looking down at your hands, you wonder if you should’ve stayed in Lothlórien. Had you known what this journey would bring to you…

Droplets of tears fall on your hands: You are crying again. Clenching your fingers into fists, you wipe the tears away, drawing a shaky breath. It’s the thought of  _him_  that makes this so hard.

The look of Thranduil’s face upon your last parting… It had been the look of complete and utter betrayal, loss of trust. And hope. You can still see it behind your eyes, as if it has been burned into your memory, returning to torment you every now and then. Sighing, you close your eyes, trying to force the image to disappear.

Suddenly, there a rustling noise that makes you jump in alert. A lid to a hidden staircase rises and a child peaks into the attic, freezing when she sees you.   
  
You stare at each other silently in shock for a moment, before she turns and shouts downstairs: “Mom! You didn’t tell me we have an elf living up on our attic!”   
  
_“We have a_ what _?!”_ Someone shouts back, and you can hear footsteps coming from somewhere below you.

Debating your chances for a moment, you resist the urge to sweep up your things and run to the window. Now that you’ve been found, it’s useless to flee. Word would spread that an elf had appeared on someone’s attic, and that kind of attention would be the last thing you need. 

You can only try to minimize the damage for now. “Do not be afraid.” You give a hint of a smile to the little girl, who is still staring at you, her mouth wide open. “I was only seeking for a place to rest, and your window was broken…”

As if realizing her open mouth just then, she closes it, blushing. With her eyes fixated on your pointed ears, she says with a silent voice: “It’s been broken for ages. We haven’t had the time to repair it, and mom was fearing that birds would fly in here and make nests… I come to check every now and then.” 

“Well, I’m not exactly a bird.” Your smile widens, and the girl laughs at your words. 

Then, she looks at you again, wondering something. “Can you fly?”

Now, it’s your time to laugh. “What makes you think that?”  
“Well, we’re quite high up, and if you came through the window…”  
“Oh, no. I did not fly up here. Just ran across the rooftops.” You shrug your shoulders as if it’s nothing, but she looks impressed. 

“Mary, get down here, young lady. What have you come up with this time?” A new voice startles you both, and a woman’s head rises next to the girl’s, peeking into the room. Seeing you, she gasps. 

You smile apologetically at her. “I am sorry, I did not mean to disturb you. I was only searching for a place to stay in, and thought your attic looked abandoned.” 

The woman stares at you for a second. “Oh.” Then, she gathers herself quickly. “I would imagine there to be better places to stay in though… There is an inn down the road, they might have a room for you… And if you are short of coin, they might let you work–”

“Is there any chance for me to stay here?” You interrupt her, your voice sounding desperate. “I would prefer to stay away from public for a while, to have some peace. No, no, I’m not a criminal, if that is what you think”, you add quickly when you see the look on her face, “I’m just…. trying to leave someone behind, to start over. That is all.”

She wonders your words for a moment. “We see elves here occasionally, as we trade with your kind… Are you from Mirkwood? King Thranduil’s court?”

You wince at the mention of his name, but try to mask it with a brush of your hair. “No, I… I come from another elven realm. I’m only travelling around, trying to find a good place to settle in.” Which isn’t too far from the truth. 

Mary jumps back into the conversation: “Why Dale? There are other cities down in the south too?”

“It’s… Well, as you might expect, people do sometimes have weird expectations about my kind. There aren’t so many of us left in here… Most humans these days have never seen an elf, and might treat us weirdly.” You had once overheard some of the Lothlórien guards talk about the human cities they had visited, and those had been their exact words about the experience. Shrugging again, you continue: “I thought that since you here in Dale trade with elves regularly, you might be more open with my kind.”

Mary’s face lights up. “Can she stay with us, mom? Please, it has been so boring since Charlotte left, I have had no one to talk to–”

“Hush, young lady, now do me a favor and get back downstairs and help your brother with the breakfast.” The woman ushers her daughter away and returns in a blink. 

“I have to say, you were lucky to choose  _our_  attic. Some of our neighbors might not have been quite as welcoming to unexpected visitors…” 

Meeting your gaze, she offers her hand towards you. “Well, now that you’re here, you might just as well come and join us. The food is ready.”

 

_\- End of chapter 14 -_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amathion = Son of Shield


	15. Dream a Little Dream

 

 

_There is a sound of breaking glass. The elves who stand in the room jump backwards, trying to avoid the spilling wine, eyes locked on their King whose fingers now grasp nothing but air as his chalice lies in pieces on the floor._

_“What did you say?!” There is raging panic in his voice, as the words sink into his mind, horror taking over his features.  
_

_“I am sorry, your Highness, but that’s what the message said…” One of the guards extends his shaky hand, offering a small scroll of paper._

_Thranduil grabs it in an instant and almost rips it in half while opening it. It must be some morbid joke…_

_But there they are. The words he never saw coming, never thought to be true.  
_

_When he had sent that stupid boy to Imladris, he had expected him to return home once he was done with his business there.  
_

_Yet, he had taken off to join a quest that was most likely going to cost him his life.  
_

_Crumpling the message in his hand, Thranduil growls, his voice filled with fury and fear: “Who in their right mind allowed my son to join on a suicide mission to Mordor?!”  
_

_He cannot forget the images that are now flashing in his mind, of the last battle in Dagorlad, where he had seen his father fall, where most of their army had been brutally slain. When he had left those plains, he had vowed to never return there, under any circumstances, to keep his people safe from the forces that festered there.  
_

_And now Legolas, his only son, was heading straight towards the evil’s nest._

_“The council in Imladris agreed upon it… There is nothing to be done about it at this point.” Feren, standing by the wall, doesn’t look any happier that his King. “We can only hope–”  
_

_“Hope? Hope for_ what _?! No amount of hope protected my father and our soldiers on those lands. And we were an army - they are going in with a single, small group!”  
_

_“That might be their advantage. As they are a small company, it’s less likely they’re going to be noticed.”  
_

_“But if they are discovered, they won’t stand a chance.”  Thranduil’s voice is bitter, as desperation clouds his vision. This is just all too much.  
_

_Throwing the crumpled scroll from his hands, he speaks: “Leave, all of you. I need to be alone.”  
_

_The elves bow their heads slightly and back out of the room, closing the doors as Thranduil sinks into his chair, his legs feeling too weak for standing. Had he known that this would happen, he would’ve never let Legolas leave these halls. Too much has been lost already. He has lost too much. And now he was about to lose the single person that mattered most to him._

_Well, that isn’t entirely true. The girl… Yet she is still missing. There has been no sight of her, no word, nothing. It is both a good and a bad sign. Had she been killed by the creatures in the woods, her body would have been discovered by now. Yet he cannot rid himself of the uneasiness. _With all he knows, she might lay dead in the woods, her body in decay while the foul creatures feed from her. He shivers in disgust from the mere thought of it, not wanting to believe it. But there is no way to know for sure, if nothing is found._  
_

_His thoughts return to Legolas, as he lets out a sigh of defeat, resting his head against his palms. That foolish boy… Right now, Thranduil wants nothing more than to search Legolas, give him the lecture of his life and then drag him back to Mirkwood by his pointy ears. Although, at this point, there is most likely no way to contact him, as Legolas has surely blocked him out, in order to escape confronting his father through_ ósanwë. _  
_

_Rubbing his eyes, he growls again. What is the point of having the ability to contact people through long distances if it can be blocked out so easily?_

_Suddenly, an idea rises to his mind.  
_

____✽ ✽ ✽_ _ _  
_

_Several weeks later  
_

Your days in Dale have been filled with ordinary work, gathering wood and cooking with the family that, after a lengthy discussion, had agreed on taking you in.Agnés, the head of the household and her two children, Mary and Tristan, had been more than welcoming to have another, more grown-up person in the house. Charlotte, Agnés’ firstborn, had recently married and moved to live with his husband on the other side of Dale. As Agnés is a widow, she is forced to work as a laundress with little to no free time. She is occupied for most of the day and forced to leave her daughter and son home alone. Now that you are here, it’s easier to keep an eye on the two, who often end up quarelling and wrestling with each other while arguing who’s in charge of the household chores. 

“Mary, leave your brother alone”, you upbraid the girl as she throws a punch on her brother’s shoulder.

“He started it”, she whines, throwing a dirty look at Tristan, who in turn sticks out his tongue, angering her further.

“Tristan”, you warn, as you wrap a worn-out cloak around you. “We have work to do, no time for brawling.” You grab a basket and open the door, pulling your hood over your head. Grunting, the children follow you outside.

It has started snowing, and you raise your eyes towards the sky. Flakes of snow dance through the air, pulled around by small wisps of wind. It’s so beautiful out here, you wish you could spend more time outside admiring all of it. 

Sadly, you have to keep a close eye on your surroundings, even now that the danger is seemingly over.

The trackers had appeared approximately a week after your arrival. You had been on the marketplace with the children, when you had spotted two elves strolling through the area. They had clearly been from Mirkwood, judging by their clothing and appearance, scanning their surroundings with alert eyes. You had instantly jumped aside, hiding behind one of the stalls, watching them silently as they had made their way towards the inn. They had most likely asked if any elves had been seen here recently, looking for someone whose description would match your appearance. You had made sure to keep low profile, though, to ensure your safety. Everytime you left the house, you covered your head with a scarf or a hood in order to hide your pointy ears, the most prominent elven feature, and tried to avoid drawing attention to yourself. So far, it had seemed to work. As you walk the road today, you keep your head lowered while making sure that the children follow you. They draw most of the attention, jumping around and greeting people, making it easier for you to go unnoticed.

When you return from buying the food supplies, you start to prepare the dinner. Agnés arrives just then, her hands red and wrinkly from all the washing. Despite being tired, her smile is always wide and warm. 

“Thank you for taking care of the children again.”

“No need to thank me, it’s the least I can do for you.” You answer. Agnés pats your cheek and moves on to put the table ready for a meal. Eyeing her, you can only admire her stamina. Raising two (well, previously three) children on your own is nothing but easy. The rough years have left their marks on her, yet she keeps going, not letting the difficult times stop her from smiling.

After dinner, Tristan is assigned to take care of the dishes, allowing you to withdraw to your room that had been used as a storage before your arrival, the empty boxes and other things leaving just enough space for an extra bed. 

You feel tired, yet don’t know if you should sleep or not. Your dreams have gotten a weird quality lately, and that’s a lot to be said, considering their previous state that had already been quite disturbing.

It had started mildly, at first. Instead of the usual dream flashes, there had been only darkness. Then, the presence of something - or someone - else. An odd sensation passing through to you in the middle of the darkness of the dream. 

Later, there had been touches, sensations. Fleeting caresses that disappeared just as quickly as they came. You hadn’t found them repulsing, though. There had been an odd familiarity to it all, something you hadn’t been quite able to grasp. It hadn’t been before one night when there had been the feel of slender fingers touching your arm in the dark, that you had realized why it felt so familiar. 

Savoring the feeling, you had recalled the way Thranduil had been running his fingers on your skin, the sensations of these dreams feeling all too similar to his touch. Despite it sparking a deep ache and longing inside you, you had allowed yourself to feel, to be held by this dream version of him, as the strong arms had wrapped around you and pulled you against another body, hard and life-like. 

It hadn’t stopped there, though. Little by little, as the nights went by, the touches had grown bolder, lingering on your skin and sweeping against your thighs, your belly, lighting the familiar spark inside your core. You welcomed it, allowing the ghostly hands wander on your skin, exploring you.

Tonight, you have no idea what to expect yet, exhausted, you need your sleep.

The familiar darkness surrounds you again. It doesn’t take long before the touch returns once more: Fingers, long and lean, graze your arms, drawing patterns lazily against your skin while moving to embrace you, pulling you backwards against someone’s chest. It feels so similar to him that you find it difficult to remind yourself that it’s only a dream. 

You let your head rest against his arm, laying there, as his familiar scent floods your surroundings. Since you’re unable to use your sight, everything else seems to grow stronger - his touch, scent… Even the feel of his hair tickling your neck. 

“I do not think I’ve ever experienced a dream this realistic before…” You mutter as you bend your hand over your shoulder, lightly touching the muscular chest behind you and then jumping in shock - there are no clothes covering the upper body. 

Strong fingers close over yours, as the other hand travels lower on your stomach, grasping the material of your nightgown.  _“What makes you believe this is a dream?”_  An amused voice echoes around you, just as familiar as everything else.

“You wouldn’t be touching me this way in real life…Not after what happened” You answer while pulling your hand away, wondering.This is the first time for you to speak in these dreams. Before, there had been only silence, accompanied with the wandering fingers. 

The air around you turns cold, causing you to shiver.  _“Hmmh…It was indeed foolish to wear that necklace…”_ The fingers that clasp your nightgown start to pull it upwards, before sliding lower.

You stifle a moan. “It ruined everything… As it was supposed to.” 

_“Supposed to?”_

“It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.” You shift, trying to get to a sitting position, but the hands wrapped around you won’t let you rise and pull you back. 

_“Do explain.”_

You let out a bitter laugh. “As if the  _real_  Thranduil would believe any of my explanations. He is too convinced that I’m the one to blame, and that my only intention was to hurt him.”

The hands around you stiffen for a second, before grasping you tighter.  _“Perhaps he would listen… If you were completely honest with him.”_

“That doesn’t do much, if his judgement is clouded by his feelings of hate towards me.” You sigh.

 _“Hate is not the only feeling he feels when looking at you…”_  The air around you becomes hot, intensifying the warmth of the body and arms that embrace you…

 

At that moment, a loud bang snaps you wide awake, tearing the dream apart as you lift your head from the pillow, looking at Mary who stands in the doorway. She had surged to the room with such momentum that the door had hit the wall. 

“Oh- I’m sorry, I did not realize you would be sleeping already.” She tries to look apologetic yet the enthusiasm surging through her takes over. “Mom said we could play board games together! It’s been such a while since we’ve had time to do something nice together, I thought to ask you to join too.” 

Her excitement makes you smile. “I’ll be there in a minute, don’t worry.” 

Mary runs back downstairs as you bend over, rubbing your temples with your fingers.  _By the Valar, this needs to stop…._

 

Meanwhile, miles away in his bedchamber, Thranduil opens his eyes. 

 

_\- End of chapter 15 -_


	16. In Time, All Foul Things Come Forth

_“Hate is not the only feeling he feels when looking at you…”_

_Those words were a risk. Calculated one, though. Despite trying to keep his own feelings out of the conversation, Thranduil couldn’t hold back.  
_

_Reaching out to the heat that surges through his own veins, he allows the girl to experience it as well, bringing the warmth out into the air around them and wrapping it around their intertwined bodies. She sighs, a sound of a pleasant surprise as he holds her tighter, feeling conflicted of what to do._

_For his fortune, someone interrupts the dream. The girl vanishes from his arms, being awakened by something or someone else. Where exactly, that is still unclear to him._

_Opening his own eyes, Thranduil returns fully to his bedchamber._

 

 

 _The realization had hit Thranduil when thinking about the use of_ ósanwë _to contact Legolas - While his son was out of his reach, there was someone else who might be open to communicate with him._

_The most difficult part had been the beginning, the choice to actually focus and reach out to her - one way or another, it would confirm her either dead or alive. Thranduil had hesitated for a long while, as he had been afraid of what he would find.  
_

_Finally, he had closed his eyes while reaching out, searching for her in the dark, blindly following the sense of tracking something that was close yet could be easily lost if approached too forcefully.  
_

_He had found her, sooner than he had expected. Alive. Her life force had been strong and bright, as he had sensed it pulsing and drawing him nearer. He could not stop himself from comparing it to the feeling of her late wife’s aura: Despite being sweet and familiar, there had been a lack of life in it: as if a veil had been draped over it, dulling the connection and signalling it to be the aura of a deceased one.  
_

_He had approached that life force cautiously - Usually, an elf couldn’t enter the mind of another of their kin if not allowed. He had been careful, letting her sense his presence yet keeping his full form out of her reach. Surprisingly, she had allowed him to enter her dreams without much hesitation. Despite her willingness, he had started slow, making sure to not to scare her and cause her to shut him out, possibly permanently.  
_

_Night after night, he had moved closer, letting her to grow used to his presence. She had welcomed him every time, igniting the now-familiar spark in his chest and making it grow stronger every time he had laid his hands on her.  
_

_In the beginning, Thranduil’s plan had been to approach and possibly seduce her to give away her location, so that he could hunt her down and bring her back to his kingdom for a trial where she would face the prosecutions. But little did he know what effect their shared moments would have on_ him _. Despite trying to shut out the feelings she sparked in him, he had been just as eager to meet her in those dreams as she had appeared to be. And now, this last encounter had made him feel even more confused with his emotions.  
_

_Looking at the ceiling, Thranduil wonders what has slipped past him. She had sounded so… Hurt. Sad, even. It didn’t feel right. Had she actually planned to toy with him and betray his trust, she surely wouldn’t appear so… Heartbroken over it.  
_

_Thranduil tries to recall everything he knows about the course of events. The guards had seen nothing, and the servants that had assisted her had sworn to not have known anything either.  
_

_He hadn’t interrogated the servants_ separately _though… There might be something that the other might recall differently when the other is not there to back them up or interrupt.  
_

_He throws the blanket off and rises out of his bed, pulling a robe over his bare torso before opening the doors to his chamber and addressing the guard standing outside.  
_

_“I want miss Emlineth in my chambers, immediately.”  
_

_____✽ ✽ ✽_ _ _ _  
_

_Emlineth arrives, curtsying before her King before asking:_

_“You sent for me, my Lord?”  
_

_“Yes.” Thranduil walks behind his desk and places himself in the chair. “I would like you to tell me again about the course of events on that evening.”  
_

_She looks flustered. “My Lord, I cannot imagine what new information I could possibly offer… As said, we did not see when the lady put that necklace on nor do we know where she got it from, but she was definitely wearing it when she left her chambers.“  
_

_“You mentioned earlier that you left the room to get something for her?”  
_

_“Yes, I forgot her slippers in my own chambers.”  
_

_“But she wasn’t alone during that time?“  
_

_“No, Erchiel was with her, but as we discussed, she did not see anything either as she was busy putting away all the excess garments and jewerly.”  
_

_Thranduil shifts in his seat, wondering. Something doesn’t add up.  
_

_“She must have had a key. There were no signs of lock picking in the door.”  
_

_“Yet she had no keys in her room, I would have remembered coming across one while cleaning her quarters.” Emlineth says. “And I cannot figure out a single way how she could have gotten a key to that particular chamber without anyone specifically_ giving _it to her, as there are so few of them.”  
_

_She clearly isn’t too convinced of her friend’s responsibility in the matter. Thranduil can’t blame her though, as he is beginning to have his own doubts as well.  
_

_Then, a memory flashes in his mind, and he rises from his chair. “Erchiel.”  
_

_“What about her, my Lord?”  
_

_“She was the Queen’s chambermaid, was she not?”  
_

_It had taken a while for him to make the connection, as he had tried to suffocate all memories from his mind that had anything to do with Silevreneth. But now…_

_“I-I believe so, my Lord.”  
_

_“And the servants who are responsible for the private living quarters are always equipped with keys to said chambers, am I right?”  
_

_“Yes. Although I do not know if she still has hers, as that room has not been used for quite some time…”  
_

_“Any self-respective servant would never lose objects of such importance.“ He replies dryly, pacing back and forth, lost in his thoughts. He feels he is getting closer to the truth. Turning, he speaks to Emlineth:  
_

_“Bring her to me.”  
_

_Emlineth curtsies again before backing out of the doors._

_\- End of chapter 16 -_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little shorter chapter this time, but the next chapter is gonna get steamy, wait for it!


	17. Sleep is a House for Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, adult content. +18

 

 _“I would_ very _much like to know why my commands have not been obeyed accordingly.”  
_

_Thranduil sits on his throne, leaning forward while resting his other elbow against the wooden armrest. He is anything but pleased.  
_

_Emlineth stands in front of him, at the base of the massive throne. “Your Highness–”  
_

_“Just because I am called to attend a quickly arranged security patrol to check the weakest stations of our borders, it does not mean that the commands given before I leave no longer apply. I was expecting you to bring Erchiel to me the moment I returned, yet I do not see her anywhere.”_

_“I would have brought her to you, my Lord, had I found her.” Emlineth answers coolly. “I saw her the day you left and told your Highness wanted to see her, but as your Highness was called elsewhere soon after, I assumed we’d wait until your return. But no one has seen a glimpse of her in two days. One of the guards on the gates said she went outside with a wood gathering group during that same day, but he couldn’t recall if she returned with the said group or not.”  
_

_Thranduil brings his fingers to his temple, roughly massaging his brow while growling: “This is_ outrageous _! First a visitor disappears, and now one of my servants has apparently fled the realm! Not to mention that both are suspected for thievery!”  
_

_“I did order a few people from the regular patrol after her once I spoke with the guards at the gate.” Emlineth replies, “They have not yet returned, but I trust they will find her trail. The wood gathering group lost sight of her somewhere around the Great Willow, none of them had any memory of seeing her after that location.”  
_

_Thranduil draws breath, trying to steady himself. As if there isn’t enough problems already. They had found signs of sabotage from some of the farthest, now abandoned border stations, suspecting that some independent pack of orcs was responsible for it: The work had been subtle yet obvious when looked at closely. The spiders weren’t intelligent enough for such a thing - They always left an enormous mess and piles of nets after them, so it was clear when they were to blame. And this was not one of those times.  
_

_“My Lord… Could it be that you’re accusing the young lady with false charges? Looking at the evidence now, it seems more likely that Erchiel was responsible for all of this - She is the only link between the young lady and the necklace, given that she has been able to access the chamber in the past. She might’ve persuaded her to wear the pendant while I was gone. I only relied on her words about what they were doing while my absence. As for her motives, I do not know what would drive her to do such a thing–”_

_Thranduil grits his teeth as the pain of an old memory returns to torment him. “Erchiel was very fond of my late wife. Not surprising, as they were close friends after spending so much time together.”  
_

_And she had been at the scene where the most horrible moment of his life had taken place… Feeling uncomfortable, Thranduil rises from his throne and walks down the steps, needing to move so that he can focus at the present moment, instead of allowing himself to get pulled into nasty flashbacks.  
_

_“But why would our little visitor run away if she was innocent? I would hardly imagine a completely innocent person to run off like that.”  
_

_“Well, I mean no ill will with my next words, your Highness, but you do have_ quite _a temper.” Emlineth says, smirking slightly. “What I mean is… Are you absolutely certain that you would not have thrown her into the dungeons without proper questioning, had she remained in these halls?”  
_

_Thranduil frowns.  
_

_Emlineth gives him a knowing smile. “I thought as much.”  
_

_“She must have only wanted to protect herself from your fury, your Highness. Don’t you believe she deserves better than to be marked as a criminal without a trial, especially now that the evidence is no longer pointing directly at her?”  
_

_Thranduil doesn’t speak, but looks thoughtful.  
_

_“Please consider that, your Highness. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to return to my duties,” Emlineth curtsies and leaves. The throne room is now empty save for the King himself seated on his throne, lost in his thoughts, wondering if he has, indeed, made a great mistake.  
_

_____✽ ✽ ✽  
_ _ _ _ _

_____ _ _ _

 

Putting away all the boxes from your hands, you call for Mary to come and clean the kitchen as she has slipped away sometime during your cooking together. The smell of onions and rosemary swirls in the air, leading to the small cauldron placed over the fire. Mary rushes to the room while you’re tasting the soup, finding it perfectly seasoned. Your work is done for today.

About two hours later, you rise the steps to the second floor. Shutting the door to your room, you raise your hands to your hair, releasing it from its tight braiding. Having spent the whole day preparing meals and sewing (you’ve noticed that Mary and Tristan tend to take a hold of each other’s shirts when having their mock-fights, causing the garments to get torn apart from the seams), you feel more than ready to retire to your bed.

You have spent the last few nights alone, in every meaning of the word: It feels almost ridiculous how attached you have grown to your dreams of the Elven King. Still, they do offer you much comfort. Despite being fond of Agnés and her little family, with whom you now spend your time, you do not feel truly free or safe, as you’re being forced to hide your identity and stay ever alert outside the walls of their house. In the dreams, you have been able to relax and just… be as you are. These days, it feels like luxury. Having no dreams for days has also directly affected your mood.

It doesn’t take long before you’ve entered your dream world after laying down to rest this time: You stand in the dark, waiting for something to happen, when a slight breeze moves around you. Shivering because of the feel of air against your bare skin, you realize you are completely naked. You stiffen your desire to cover yourself with your hands, as it would be useless in the darkness. Instead, you focus on your surroundings, hoping to find the sense of _him_.

This time, you don’t have to wait for long: His arms wrap around you from behind, grasping your belly and the skin beneath your breasts as you lean back against him, sinking into his arms.

_“Pleased to see me again, I assume?”_

“What makes you think of that?”

 _“Well, I do not sense you resisting my touch… Quite the contrary, in fact…”_ He replies, with his fingers tapping against your skin.

“Well, I do have to admit I have missed this…” you say with a weak smile. He chuckles.

_“Have you now? I would lie if I said I wouldn’t be flattered to hear that.”_

“Just like the real one… So humble”, you laugh.

 _“_ Humble _? I hardly think that fits into my vocabulary_ ”, He breaths agaist your shoulder, sounding dry yet amused.

“Sarcasm, my dear King.”

 _“Ah, and there it is again… You seem to be so very fond of calling me_ yours _.”_

You blush. “I–”

 _“Of course, that deal would go both ways. I would not be yours without you also belonging to me…”_ His hand rises higher, caressing your breast as you shudder. _“I_ could _offer you another glimpse of what it would mean to truly be mine… And mine only.”_

His other hand slides down, moving lower over your abdomen and stopping teasingly close to the center of your thighs. Your breath hitches to your throat as Thranduil moves around you, dragging his hands on your skin.

You feel his knees hitting the ground in front of you, blindly following your other senses as you’re unable to use your vision. His breath tickles your stomach, so painstakingly warm and sensual that it makes you quake as his arms move down your legs, stopping only to grasp your thighs and hold you still.

You feel out of breath. “Thra–”

He squeezes your thighs gently with his fingers. “ _Shhh_ ”, he murmurs. Without a warning, the dream Thranduil plants a kiss on your lower abdomen, listening you gasp as he moves down, tightening his hold of you. You lay your hands on his shoulders, gripping them tight as your legs grow weaker with every passing second. Noticing your weakness, he pulls you down towards the ground, lowering you on your back.

Thranduil’s hands slide over your skin, gently forcing your legs apart as his lips move lazily up your inner thigh. Your fingers find his silky hair as you squirm under his touch, with a whimper escaping from your lips. He responds with a dark sound, his hot breath warming your skin and arousing you even more.

Then, his lips slide over to your most tender places, joined by his tongue as he caresses and strokes you, sending ripples of pleasure pulsing through your entire body. Gasping, you push your hips towards him. With a satisfied groan, his fingers move to lock your legs in place, holding them wide open for him while his tongue slips in and out of you, stroking you in ways that make you cry out.

You can feel your release nearing - he’s sensing it too, as he pulls away from you momentarily, keeping you at the edge while enjoying your pleas for him to finish what he started.

 _“So eager…”_ His amused voice reaches your ears, yet he makes no attempt to continue.

Groaning, you lead your own hand down your stomach, with an intent to help yourself to reach the peak of your pleasure, but he stops you short: Grabbing your wrist, he pulls your hand aside while grazing your thigh with his teeth.

 _“Not so fast, you impatient little thing…”_ Thranduil’s breathy laugh tickles your skin. _“You will get your release… soon.”  
_

It feels as if you could take it no more. “Please, I can’t… I _need_ …” You whimper, with your whole body tensed up and shaking.

Accompanied with a strained snarl, Thranduil gives in, burying his tongue into you once more, releasing your wrist as both of his hands press firmly against your flesh.

You twist your fingers back into his hair as the rapid movements against your inner walls bring you close, so close… Until, with one swift lash of his tongue, the world explodes behind your eyes.

 

_____✽ ✽ ✽  
_ _ _ _ _

 

As you regain your senses, you feel Thranduil resting his head against your leg, drawing circles on your skin while waiting for you to come down from your heights, enjoying every second of it. Finally, you feel him rising up and moving to your side.

_“How do you feel?”_

“It is difficult to describe…” You say, stretching yourself, still being slightly jittery but satisfied.

_“Good. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”_

“Oh, now you’re just flattering yourself”, you laugh.

_“Well, I believe I have earned it, given your current state”, he replies, turning you around so that your cheek rests against his chest._

You voice your approval. “Mhhh… I do hope that the bells won’t wake me up too early… This dream has been so very pleasant…” Laying against him while feeling him humming contentedly, you enjoy the warmth radiating off from both of you.

Suddenly, you hear him gasp and shift against you.

_“But of course…!”_

In that second, the dream vanishes.

 

You’re flustered and confused as you find yourself in your bed, fully clothed, despite your naked state in the dream. Jumping up, you light a candle and walk towards a small mirror placed on top of a plain drawer in the corner. You look just the same as always, but your eyes shine in a way they have never done before. Also, there is a telltale blush still lingering on your cheeks and cleavage, giving away the details of your dream.

You lay back on your bed but find yourself unable to even think of falling back asleep. Recalling everything, the heat surges through you.

 _And that was_ only _a dream…_

 

  _____✽ ✽ ✽_____

  
  
_Thranduil jumps awake, staring into nothingness with utter disbelief.  
_

She’s in Dale.

_He rises from his bed, going for the doors and the guard stationed outside._

_“Arrange a company of trackers and guards. I know where she is.”_

_Without batting an eye at the sudden order, the guard nods. “Should they prepare for a long journey?”_

_“Not necessary. She is close. Just make them hurry; I’ll give them further instructions once they are ready. And send Feren here, I need to speak with him."  
_

_Turning back to the room, he runs a hand through his hair. That cunning little… He should have known. She had probably used the solid rocks of the riverside to walk on, avoiding leaving any marks on the softer ground or moss in the forest. No wonder the trackers had found nothing. And judging by her interest in books, she had most likely discovered a map or some other information that had shown her the directions she had needed._

_The next question would be how she had gotten past the guards on the outer wall… His guards were nothing of the sorts of those in Lothlórien and should’ve caught her right on the spot, yet they hadn’t. Thranduil sighs. There would be quite a mess to deal with once the girl was retrieved._

_He turns back to look at his bed. The remains of the dream still linger in his senses, remembering the way she had screamed for him at the peak of her release… Thranduil shudders, feeling the tightening in his groins.  
_

_They would have a_ lot _to discuss about.  
_

_\- End of chapter 17 -_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you didn’t get the reference - There is a mention in The Hobbit (chapter 11, to be precise) about Dale having been famous for its bells. So basically all Thranduil had to do was connect the dots between her unintentional slip and the possible locations and - boom.
> 
> Also - for those who are interested, the name of the chapter comes from one line of a song I like (Amorphis - House of Sleep). I just felt that line fits well for this chapter.


	18. There is no Love in You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Graphic, major character death, mental instability

_Thranduil walks the corridor towards the stables, giving orders to his lieutenant while strapping his sword around his hips._

_“Send the fastest tracker back to the city. Tell him to keep his eyes open but to_ not _engage before the rest of the company has arrived. I want this to be handled with as little unwanted attention as possible. Once they have her, they will return to us. We will build the camp near the edge of the forest.”_

_“Understood, my Lord. I will send the tracker on his way immediately.”_

_“Oh, and Feren…” The elf male turns back to his King. “She must be returned, unharmed. If I see a single bruise on her…”_

_“What if she fights back, my Lord?”_

_“Oh, she won’t.” Thranduil waves his hand dismissively. “I know which strings to pull to get her attention.”_

_Feren looks questioning, until Thranduil continues: “Bring up the two younglings from the river caves and take them with you…”  
_

 

_____✽ ✽ ✽_ _ _ _ _

 

Despite feeling sure that you would not be able to fall back asleep after the intense dream you just had, you find your eyelids suddenly feeling heavy, alongside with your body, as you sink beneath the bedcovers. After a while, you’re back in deep sleep, wandering aimlessly around in the dark, accompanied only by fleeting flickers of light.

Out of nowhere, an unfamiliar presence enters your dream. It does not feel intimidating, but you stay alert nevertheless. 

“Who’s there?!” _  
_

_“Do not be frightened. I mean no harm to you. I only wish to speak with you.”_

You look around you, but see nothing. “Who are you?”

At once, a flickering image of an elf appears in front of your eyes – an umfamiliar figure, yet kind-looking. Dressed in a white gown, she approaches you, holding her hands up as a sign of peace. She has long hair, entwined with strands of silver, with a pale jewel resting on her forehead. 

_“I am Silevreneth. You may not know me, but you know my husband.”_ She smiles gently. _“I trust you know him_ very _well.”_

You gasp. “Thranduil?! You are his wife–?”

“ _Yes, although I would say I now stand here as his_ late _wife. And I have come to you as I find myself worried over the well-being of my King.”  
_

“Is this… Really you, not just a dream?” _  
_

 _“You might have heard of the practice of_ ósanwë _. It is less used these days, but there are still some that find it to be a good way of communication… Lady Galadriel, your home’s protector, being one of them. It is also possible for the deceased, like me, to contact the living in the times of great need.”_

Shaken, you now begin to think about your latest dreams… Could it be….?

“How does it work exactly?”

 _“You can pass images, sensations, even scents to another person, if you so wish. And, judging by the scent that still lingers around_ you _…”_ She steps closer, _“I would dare a guess that Thranduil has visited you not long ago.”_

Blush spreads over your cheeks as you, with panic spiralling in your head, try to make sense of it all. “H-he–”

 _“Worry not, I am not here to confront either of you. Quite the contrary, in fact.”_   She looks at your steadily. _“You have been able to rekindle the love in his heart. And I believe your soul carries feelings for him as well”  
_

Shifting uneasily, you stutter: “Y- well yes, but… My feelings play no part in all of this–”

 _“But they do. I am here to give my_ blessing _for both of you. He has been alone for so long, isolating himself… He deserves to find happiness, even though he now denies it from himself.”_

“Am I to understand–  You _want_ us to be together?” But… You love your husband and son, do you not? And despite your current state, you may still be reborn in Valinor… Most elves are preparing to leave as we speak, if Thranduil and Legolas leave as well you will be reunited through your rebirth–”

_“I will not be returning from the Halls of Mandos, not for a very long time at least. My situation is too complicated.”_

Shocked, you stare at her. “But why–?”

Silevreneth looks apologetic. _“I believe I must show you – but it will feel quite uncomfortable. Apologies.”_

Before you have time to speak, she raises her hand and touches your forehead – and your world bursts into noise and flashing images.

In a second, the turmoil sets, and you see a familiar landscape in front of you – Mirkwood. 

 

_____✽ ✽ ✽_ _ _ _ _

 

_You’re evidently seeing everything through Silevreneth’s eyes. She walks the same hallways you have paced so many times yourself, yet the athmosphere itself seems different - more serious and rigid. There is no laughter, and everyone she passes has a grieving expression on their faces._

_“Your Highness…” One of the servants bows to Silevreneth. She nods accordingly, and moves on. It still feels strange to be called with such a title - it hadn’t been long since she had still been the wife of the prince of the Woodland Realm. Now, she is the queen. And she has work to do.  
_

_She enters a chamber full of other elves, everyone turning to face her and bowing as she passes them. Approaching a desk full of papers, she seats herself behind it._

_“Any news from the battlefield?”_

_“No, your Highness. Based on the latest information, it seems that the armies have not been able to advance from the Plateau of Gorgoroth.”  
_

_“Their losses have been too big… After the battle in Dagorlad I wonder if they have any men left to return home once this is settled….”  
_

_You realize that the vision must take place somewhere at the end of the Second Age - War of the Last Alliance, to be specific. You had not been born at the time of said events, but knew more than well what had happened.  
_

_But if this was, in fact, happening at that time, then it would also mean…_

_“Has my husband been able to retrieve his father’s body?”  
_

_“We do not know. They have been searching, but as the body count is so severe… It might be that king Oropher’s remains will be lost for good.”_

_Silevreneth lays down her gaze, to the numerous scrolls of paper that have brought news to her regularly after Thranduil, his father and their army had left the realm to fight the evil in the south. So far, none of the scrolls had brought any good news.  
_

_She misses him so very dearly. They had been able to share a few moments together in dreams during the nights but, as the battles had been so unpredictable and sudden, Thranduil had had little time for rest._

_Sighing, Silevreneth gathers up all the papers and puts them away. On that moment, the doors open as Erchiel enters the chambers, with baby Legolas in her arms._

_“My lady, you wanted to see your son?”_  
  
“Yes, thank you, Erchiel.” Silevreneth smiles as she gazes lovingly at the small child, now awake and reaching for his mother.

_Lifting her son to his arms, she gives the last instructions to the elves around her. Then, the queen of Mirkwood walks to the doors, with her servant at her heels.  
_

_____✽ ✽ ✽_ _ _ _ _

 

_Later, one day, Silevreneth is out in the woods with her company, when something happens – a pack of orcs appears, and a fight takes place. They are seriously outnumbered, and once everything is over, she is taken captive.  
_

_Once she regains her consciousness, she sees nothing but walls of stones around her and chains that hold her, etched deep into the rocks. An iron door that opens only when a pair of orcs enters the room.  
_

_They torture her for days, laughing for her pain. Silevreneth’s body is broken and bruised, but she refuses to leave her body, to free her_ fae _, as the only thing she can think of is that she wants to see her husband and son once more. So she endures._

_Until the day they bring forth their worst weapon.  
_

_The same orcs enter the room once more, but they are now accompanied with a third, even more repulsive orc and so old-looking that it seems ready to collapse on its feet at any minute.  
_

_The orc holds a plain box, crafted from black iron and carved with words on a language she cannot read. They observe her for a moment, as if she was an interesting experiment they were ready to put into good use.  
_

_Despite being weary, she lifts her chin. “There is nothing worse you can do to me. I can endure your swords and daggers, the spikes and poisons you pour on me, for my mind is intact.”_

_“Oh, but that is where you’re wrong, little elf Queen – for this isn’t a device for physical torture.” the orc brings the box closer, running his filthy fingers over the lid, “this is the last gift from the Dark Lord. It carries the remains of his power, and it will break you, from the inside out.”_

_Silevreneth feels coldness spreading through her body. “Sauron has no such power. You’re only trying to frighten me.”_

_“It is not lord Sauron we speak of, elf Queen. No. We speak of his master, the one he answered to on the glory of his days. The first Dark Lord, he who planted the seed of darkness in the heart of every elf, men and other creature that roams these lands.”_

_Silevreneth’s eyes widen in horror, as the realization dawns to her. “_ Morgoth.”

_“There is darkness lurking in the soul of every living thing. And this..” The orc grabs the lid of the chest, beginning to lift it, “…will help to lure it out.”_

_When the lid rises, a horrible sound fills the room. It is worse than anything Silevreneth has ever heard, as it pierces not only her body but her mind, burning and twisting. With a dark smile, the orc speaks:  
_

_“This world was created with music. And with music, it shall be destroyed.”_

_That is when Silevreneth’s mind shatters. Everything cracks apart, casting her into darkness, as her mind splits._

______✽ ✽ ✽_____  
_

 

_“Rise, your Highness.”_

_Silevreneth opens her eyes, feeling new, raw power surging through her. Twisting her fingers, she notices the shackles to be gone._

_She looks around her: There are more orcs now standing in the room, waiting, watching. She rises to her feet, not feeling any pain in her limbs.  
_

_“It worked”, one of the orcs hisses, with victory gleaming in its eyes. “She’s changed.”  
_

_“Yes, but it took all that still remained of the Dark Lord’s power”, the old orc says grudgingly, eyeing at the last bits of the box that now covers the floor in the form of black dust. “We cannot use it ever again, so make it count.”  
_

_Silevreneth straightens her back, walking around the orcs. “Interesting… For such a power to even exists…” She looks at her hands, admiring her newfound strength. She feels like she could take over the whole world, burn it down and conquer every last part of it.  
_

_“How do you think we came into being in the first place?” One of the orcs scoffs. “Long time ago the Dark Lord and his servants captured some of you pretty elves and then tortured you until_ we _were born.”  
_

_The old orc nods his head. “Although our Lord is now gone and we have found other ways to recreate, it is his power that has created the most powerful ones of us. And now… You.”_

_“I believe we have a task to offer that would make your Highness very pleased”, the orc continues, pulling a map out of his filthy clothes. “It would be quite sad if you could not join all your servants together, would it not?”  
_

_Looking at the map, a cold smile spreads on Silevreneth’s lips.  
_

______✽ ✽ ✽_ _ _ _ _   
_

__With most of the Mirkwood’s army gone, it would have been the perfect time to try to take over their kingdom. The orcs had thought about it, yet had known that their numbers were still too limited to manage such a trick_._

__But now that they had someone with them who knew the realm and could lead them inside, it would be worth trying. They didn’t have much time as the orc scouts had seen the elven army returning, the last sightings of them coming from the south end of the forest. They had to act fast._   
_

_Silevreneth runs between the trees, leading a small army of orcs towards the direction of the Woodland realm she knows to be most poorly guarded. It doesn’t take long before they reach the solid rocks of the mountain under which the kingdom lies. .  
_

_They meet unexpected resistance - the lieutenant in charge must have added more guards during her absence, Silevreneth notes angrily. She makes the decision to leave most of her army behind, leaving them to fight with the guards as she slips inside the realm, accompanied with only a few of the orcs.  
_

_“You stay here and keep this tunnel open, I will go and open the gates so that the rest can get in.”  
_

_Silevreneth runs through the corridors, slipping in the shadows whenever someone approaches. There is a slight mayhem inside the realm, as everyone is trying to gather arms to fight off the orcs outside.  
_

_Nearing the gates, Silevreneth picks up her speed, when she hears a familiar voice calling out for her.  
_

_“My lady?! We have been so worried! Are you well?!” Erchiel runs towards her, carrying a small figure._

_“My son.” Silevreneth smiles coldly. “Give him to me.”_

_“My lady—?”_

_Silevreneth turns her gaze straight at Erchiel, and she freezes as she sees her eyes. Erchiel trembles and falls backwards, clutching the little, sleeping prince against her chest._

_“You—“_

_“But Erchiel, do you not recognize your dearest friend?” Silevreneth purrs, walking closer. She grabs Erchiel’s arm, whispering in a foreign language, as images fill Erchiel’s mind, trying to gently persuade her to let go of the small boy she’s carrying in her arms while promising that no harm will come to her._

_“Hand him over, Erchiel, my friend. I wish to hold my son.”_

_Erchiel, her eyes locked with Silevreneth’s, trembles from head to toe, but slowly, so slowly, she begins to extend her arms, offering the little baby to its mother, who is triumphantly reaching forward –_

_“STOP!”_

_A familiar voice yells from behind them, causing them both to freeze. Silevreneth turns on her heels, facing the gaze of eyes she knows better than her own._

_Thranduil stands before them, panting and drenched, but alive. He holds his sword, with his hands shaking slightly as he points the blade towards his wife, who now has the sweetest smile on her lips. A few of his soldiers stand behind him, looking just as tired and worn out as their King, and Silevreneth can hear new shouts coming from the hallways above her: The army has returned.  
_

_“Welcome home, darling”, she purrs. “I did not expect for you to return so soon.”_

_“Step away from him”, Thranduil growls, his eyes filled with fear as he looks upon the scenery in front of him. “Don’t you dare to touch my son.”_

_“Oh, but he is my son as well, is he not?”_

_“No.” Thranduil moves closer. “You are not his mother, and you are not my wife. What have you done to her?”_

_“They broke her. She is gone.” Silevreneth curls her lips into a feral grin. “I am the new Queen of the realm, and I shall take what is mine.”_

_“Not before you’ve gone through me.” In a split second, Thranduil leaps towards her, his sword flashing._

_They fight, but even in her haze, Silevreneth sees that Thranduil cannot win the fight: He strikes, but not to kill. He cannot bring himself to kill her. And that is all for her advantage._

_The next time Thranduil strikes with his blade, she raises her own, and with a quick twist of her wrist, she manages to hit the sword from his hands.  
_

_Weaponless, he stands in front of Erchiel and Legolas, protecting them with the only thing he has left: His own life._

_“Step aside, darling.”_

_“Never.”_

_“I will not ask again. Step aside.” She takes a step closer.  
_

_“Silevreneth…” Tears fill his eyes. “When I left, I was worried to leave you two here alone. _You promised to keep him safe from all evil, do you remember? Some part of you must still remember. You promised._ ”_

_“I promised….”_

_Suddenly, something stirs in Silevreneth’s mind: Her old self, returning once more, trying to gain control over her body._

_She raises her hands to her temples, as a splitting headache races through her. “No, go away…”_

_But the real Silevreneth won’t allow herself to be pushed away, not now. For a moment, she gains control over her dark side. The sword falls from her hands, and Thranduil kicks it aside.  
_

_Thranduil recognizes the change in her. “Silevreneth? Is that you?”  
_

_She turns to look at him._

_“Everything will be all right, my love… Just let me help you.” He reaches out for her with desperate eyes.  
_

_At his words, the darkness stains the edges of her vision once more, and she knows… This is beyond their powers. Her control starts to slip, as her fingers find their way to the dagger she had taken with her, pulling it out and holding it between herself and Thranduil.  
_

_“Silevreneth, please…”  
_

_She stops for a second, taking one last look upon his husband, her eyes trying to deliver the emotions she cannot speak anymore._

_“I will keep him safe. I will keep_ you _safe.”_

_Then, she raises the dagger she’s holding in her hand. Thranduil realizes what she is about to do and jumps forward, but it’s too late._

_The blade pierces her heart, as Silevreneth drives it through her own chest. Blood runs over her fingers as she collapses forward, to the hands of his beloved one as he grabs a hold of her._

_“No, no—“_

_He holds her, tenderly, raising her face so that he can look her in the eyes. His tears fall on her cheeks, as she raises her hand, touching his chest before muttering her last words:_

_“I am sorry…”_

_And so, the Queen of the Woodland realm dies, her hand falling lifeless against the ground as her King lets out a yell, the sound the embodiment of pain and grief that echoes through space._

_____✽ ✽ ✽_ _ _ _ _

 

His scream splits your ears, and in the next second you’re thrown back into your own body, the vision now gone.

You gasp for breath and try to calm down, as your heart races and your whole body shakes. 

“I… I never knew…”

 _“Neither do most elves._ ” Silevreneth says silently. _“Those who witnessed everything vowed silence. I was told to have died during the invasion, which was told to be the result of me managing to escape but being followed home by the orcs.”_

 _“And now…”_ She looks at you _, “I must stay where I am. For how long, that I cannot tell.”  
_

“But… It was not your fault, none of it! Those creatures did it _to_ you. There is no reason to keep you in the Halls for all eternity, as you are not one of the wrongdoers who are never to be let out!” _  
_

Silevreneth’s face suddenly twists, as she raises a hand to her temple.

_“It matters not, the effects are the same. The darkness still lingers in me. I have been able to find peace here, but even lord Mandos does not know how long it takes before I am fully healed. Our bodies can be remade and healed relatably fast. Our minds, however… It may take quite some time.”  
_

She sighs. _“What I am trying to say… As my fate is so very unclear, I want for my husband to be able to move on._ _And now that he has you, I feel confident that he will be able to find happiness.”  
_

Speechless, you turn to look at your hands, suddenly feeling tears rising in your eyes.

_“Something troubles you, I see?”  
_

“I… I just cannot believe I could be enough. Enough for someone like him to make him happy…”

Silevreneth touches your cheek tenderly. _“The happiness is found within, my dear. Sometimes you just need the right person to help you find your way back to it. You have already started that journey for him - You might as well continue and see where it takes you.”  
_

 _“Speaking of journeys, do not forget the one that sent you to him.”_ Her voice grows weaker, as the light surrounding her slowly fades. _“Darkness is coming, and there isn’t much time. You need to be prepared to face it.”  
_

_Removing her hand, she steps back, disappearing in the shadows. “And please… Keep him safe.”  
_

_\- End of chapter 18 -_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, that was one heck of a chapter. Hope you liked it!
> 
> As, based on Tolkien, the whole world of Middle-earth was created by the music of Eru Ilúvatar, and Melkor/Morgoth did his best to ruin it by weaving his own nasty chords into it, I thought it would be an interesting idea to see how “the music of evil” could have been used to create much of the darkness in Middle-earth. Of course, in the later times when Melkor/Morgoth was no longer present himself, it was presumably up to his successors to keep up his filthy lil’ legacy (although it was less impressive in terms of creation), as he had done most of the ground work already.
> 
> Also, referring to the fae mentioned in the chapter, a quick FYI in case it's needed - fëa and hröa (in Quenya) were the terms to describe the soul and body of elves (their Sindarin equivalents being fae and rhaw). When an elf’s fëa separates from their hröa, they die. It could be unwilling, such in the case of getting slain, but it could also be done willingly, if the elf so decided.


	19. "I will let you go..."

_One of the trackers enters the tent, bowing to his King before speaking:_

_“She has been located. Rador followed her to one of the occupied houses; it seems she lives there with a human family. A mother and two children.”_

_“Well, that is certainly unexpected…” Thranduil hadn’t expected her to have spent this much time in Dale without having any contact with the locals, but actually staying in a family house…. “And where is the house located?”_

_“Near the southern wall.”_

_“Good. Not directly in the middle of the city, less crowded…” Thranduil wonders, holding a goblet of wine in his hand while tracing the lines on the map of Dale with the other. They_ could _have informed the town leader that an elven fugitive had been located inside the city and that they would come to get her, but, fearing that it would just create unnecessary hassle and possibly disturb their work, Thranduil had decided it to be best to go in without drawing too much attention to themselves.  
_

_“Proceed as planned, but make sure that no one is harmed, elf or human. This is not a good time to begin any unnecessary brawls with our neighbors.”  
_

_Downing the rest of his wine, he leaves the goblet on the table as he turns to look through the door of the tent: The water shimmers in the distance, as the rising sun reflects from its surface, yet he sees none of it. His thoughts are elsewhere, occupied by the one person that has been escaping him for so long._

_“Not much longer… We are close…”  
_

 

______✽ ✽ ✽_ _ _ _ _   
_

You have been outside with the children, spending the whole day at a spring feast where they have been able to enjoy the beautiful weather and the company of other children. After hours of plays, games and good food you have finally decided it’d be time to return home, despite Mary’s and Tristan’s protests. You still have things to do before Agnés would come home from work.

Leading the children along the alley, you laugh with them as they proceed to repeat some of the funny incidents from the feast - starting from a scene caused by one of the merchants, as he had been chasing a group of boys after catching them drawing some vulgar things on the decorated cakes he had on display. One of the men who had been drinking too much had also fallen backwards into the horse’s water trough, complaining about feeling cold and wet yet not realizing where he was sitting.

Wiping tears of laughter from your eyes, you arrive to the house. Turning the key in the lock, you open the door and turn to speak over your shoulder while entering:

“Oh, and you wash your hands, Tristan, I saw you with that frog out there and you will not be eating anything before—“

The rest of the words die on your lips as you turn back to see the view in front of you.

Two elven trackers stand on the other side of the small room, coolly meeting your gaze as they straighten up and stride towards you, clearly having waited for you to show up.

“Mary, Tristan, get back outside. _Now_.” you push them backwards, but before you manage to slam the door shut you look behind you and freeze: Four more trackers now stand around you on the street, having you surrounded. 

One of them speaks: “My lady, we mean you no harm. But you must come with us.”

Your hand flies beneath your robe, grabbing the handle of a sword resting against your hip as you draw out the shining blade. “I do hope you didn’t expect me to come without a fight, did you?”

You had never left the house without a weapon, as you had feared something like this would happen. Though, in your imagination, there had been fewer opponents to escape from. Now, you are seriously outnumbered - and you have the children to protect. Not an ideal situation at all.

“This is not a request—“The elf speaks, drawing his daggers out from their sheaths, the light of the setting sun turning the metal golden, “– but an order from the King himself. You will return to his kingdom, with or without force. The choice is yours.”

Rising your sword, you pull the children closer with your other hand, getting ready to defend yourself when another voice speaks:

“Put down your weapons, there is no need for all of this.”

You look to your left, trying to see the elf that is standing against the sun, making it harder to see his features. But once you recognize him, you gasp.

“Tharon?”

“Yes. Good to see you after all this time, my lady, despite the circumstances…” He takes a sideway glance at the other elves. They haven’t given him any weapons, and one of the trackers stands on alert slightly behind him in case he decides to try something.

“Listen. The King is holding Edraith back at the camp, I was told to tell you that neither one of us will be released if you do not return.”

“Released? What do you—“ You stop. “Oh, no. He wouldn’t _dare_ —“

“He would, and he has. These past weeks haven’t been exactly nice for us… First spending time in the dungeons and then in house arrest”, Tharon says with a bitter tone, giving a dirty look at the elf with the daggers standing in front of you.

“But you had nothing to do with any of this!”

“His Highness wasn’t so convinced about it.”

You feel fury rising in your chest. How _dare_ he…

Tharon interrupts your thoughts: “I wouldn’t want to ask for you to return, but I must admit I am growing tired of playing cards with Edraith day after day in lack of better activities, especially as he cheats so often.” He tries to joke, but you aren’t amused, not in the slightest.

You turn to speak with the tracker in front of you. “So that is the agreement? If I return with you, he will let both of them go?”

 “Precisely”, he answers.

You hesitate, but as you think of how much your companions have been forced to endure while your absence… Perhaps it’s time to confront the King and share a few words of what you think of his _practices._

“Fine.” You say. Throwing your sword on the ground, you turn to the children, kneeling in front of them.

 “Tell your mother I had to leave. And thank her for taking me in, I will be forever grateful for that.”

Mary grabs your sleeve as tears rise in her eyes. “Where are you going? Wh–who are these people?”

You give her a sad smile. “Don’t worry about me. Now, both of you, get inside, and don’t go anywhere before your mother returns.” You gesture towards the door. Tristan takes Mary’s hand, but hesitates and looks back at you.

“Go. I will be fine.” You shoo them gently, waiting until they’re inside the house before turning back to the company in front of you. The two trackers that had been inside the house shut the door and grab your arms, as the rest look at you. Lifting your chin, you say:

“Take me to him, then.” 

 

______✽ ✽ ✽_ _ _ _ _ _

 

After hours of travelling, you reach the small camp near the woods. It is already dark and the fires have been lit, casting shadows over the ground. The trackers lead you towards the biggest tent, while a few elves along the way stop their work to look at the little convoy in front of them. Not allowing yourself to feel embarrassed, you grit your teeth and look straight ahead, refusing to meet the gaze of any of the bystanders.

Lifting the curtain that serves as a door, one of the trackers speaks:

“You wait here. The King will join you momentarily.”

You walk inside the tent, as the fabric falls back on its place behind you. You look around, painstakingly aware that everything here speaks of its owner: The empty wine goblets, the double swords resting over a map on the table, the silvery robe draped over the chair… Even the very air smells of him. And it makes your heart ache.

Placing yourself in the chair, you rub your temples as you’re suddenly feeling less confident about your plan to confront him.

You could, however, try to find Tharon and Edraith and set them free. That is the least you could do right now. You hadn’t seen Edraith in the camp, and Tharon had been led away from the smaller tents, so they surely weren’t held there…

Glancing outside, you see trackers sitting in front of the King’s tent as one of them paces around it. Moving to the back, you count his speed as you glance from under the edge of the tent, trying to figure out where to go. 

You see a few guards standing near the edge of the forest, and one placed on top of the cliffs to your right. There is a small gap in the rocks, seemingly leading somewhere deeper inside the cliffs. It looks just big enough for you to get through, if you manage to avoid the guards. 

As the tracker is on the other side of the tent and the guard on top of the cliffs is facing another direction, you swing yourself towards the rocks, moving fast and silently. You push through the gap, seeing that there is, indeed, an extremely narrow passageway that leads somewhere beyond. You follow it, occasionally looking behind in case someone is following you.

Finally, the pathway opens to a small cave-like space that is open to the sky, with trees growing on the other side over the rock walls, and a small pool of water formed in the middle of it. There is no other light except for the moon that shines from above, painting everything around you in hues of blue and silver. 

Stepping towards the pool, you try to make sense of your surroundings as someone’s voice stops you:

“There you are… I was already expecting you.”

Feeling cold and heated at the same time, you turn on your heels.

Thranduil stands behind you in the shadows, leaning against the stone wall. His eyes study you as a cold smirk rises to his lips.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t take precautions in case you decided to escape again?”

 

_\- End of chapter 19 -_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rador = Pathfinder


	20. "...if you but return what is mine"

You stand still as Thranduil steps out of the shadows, the pale light of the moon playing in his silvery hair. 

“My, my, it has been a while…” He says, crossing his arms and staring back at you, while your heartbeat pounds in your ears.

“Where are they? Where are you keeping Edraith and Tharon?!”

“Not here - obviously. And, right now, they don’t matter.” He moves closer as you step back towards the pool. “The only thing I care about right now is _you_. And we have _quite_ a few things to discuss about…”

“We will not be discussing _anything_ before I have met them!” Anger pumps through you as your fingers curl into fists. “How _dare_ you make them suffer for something they had no part in! All of us, in fact - We came to your realm to offer our warnings and assistance, and what have we gotten in return?! Nothing but anger and false accusations!”

“Before you continue any further, I would like you to know that your companions have been released and sent back to the realm with most of the trackers.” He interrupts you, giving you a stern look. “And I do believe _you_ have personally received quite a few other things from me than just mere anger…”

The images of the dreams flash before your eyes as your cheeks turn pink. “So it _was_ your doing, wasn’t it? All those nights…”

He doesn’t answer, which tells you more than enough. Your thoughts are getting chaotic and you only wish to leave, needing space to calm down. You turn back towards the pathway, but he has already moved in front of it. “Get out of my way”, you hiss at him.

“Unfortunately, I cannot do that. We are far from done.”

“Have it your way, then, _your Majesty_ ,” you growl and jump at him.

Thranduil blocks your strike, pushing you backwards as he comes at you. As he is stronger and taller than you, it seems obvious that he would be the one to end this in next to no time.

This time, however, he is the one left unprepared.

While in Dale, you had spent some time in the evenings sitting on the rooftops and silently observing the city and its life. At first it had been solely for the purpose of watching out for the trackers, but soon you had become curious of the people themselves - including some boys arranging mock fights in the far end corners of the streets. 

You had surveyed them curiously: These humans, not quite children anymore yet too young to be considered fully grown, had been sparring with each other and some of them had seemed to be surprisingly good. Obviously, they had no idea of “clean” fighting styles, the way elves did. You had been taught to fight with the purpose of doing only as much as needed, to save energy and stay slightly defensive at all times. There was also a certain flow in the elven fighting, every move swiftly following the previous one, making it appear as its own kind of dancing.

It had its strengths but also its weaknesses: The way these boys fighted had been less clean but also more unpredictable - Not as swift moves but more abrupt changes that would leave the opponent with little time to react, as there was no line of movement to be followed. They had also been more ready to take in punches in order to get through the opponent’s shielding and, that way, bring them down.

That is what you put in good use now: Instead of ducking out of the way as you would usually do, you jump closer to him and tense your muscles to take in the blow of his fist, making sure to hold your footing. As you’re so close, he cannot deliver a solid strike the way he could if he was able to extend his arm: His fist connects with your abdomen, knocking out some of the air from your lungs but not strong enough to take you down. 

His eyes are now at the same level as yours, looking surprised and mildly shocked as he had expected you to get out of the way of his strike instead of allowing yourself get hit that way. 

Before he has time to react your hand flies up, with the arch of your palm hitting his jaw. As his head falls backwards, you take advantage of his unbalanced posture as you bend over, swiping with your leg as the heel of your foot connects with the side of his ankle. 

Thranduil falls on his back and you’re on him in an instant, straddling his body while trying to keep him down.

He looks taken aback, not quite having expected that kind of a move.

“Strange”, you muse, giving him a cold smirk in turn, with the slight pain still throbbing through your muscles, “It feels as if we have been in a situation like this before - Oh, but wait, we _have_.”

Without moving his head, his eyes look down to the small knife you’re holding against his throat. He gives out a small laugh.

“A _letter opener_? That is creative, I give you that.”

The trackers had searched you before leaving Dale and found the dagger you had carried inside your boot. So once you had spotted this silver-decorated thing on the table inside his tent, you had taken it with you without a blink. It’s not much but it is still sharp enough to cause some damage.

“Also, it would appear that _someone_ has learned some new tricks during her time with the humans… I cannot quite decide whether their influence on you has been good or not.”

“Just a few additional views on dueling, your Highness, nothing more. Although they seem to be quite high in value, considering which one of us has the upper hand at the moment,” you tantalize him, with the fury still pumping in your veins.

“Speaking of value, that little blade in your hand happens to cost a fortune… I wouldn’t want to have it ruined.” 

“Oh, damn the kings and their worries for their treasures!”

He looks at you, with something flashing in his eyes before he continues:

“You seem to have a thief’s eye for precious things yourself, little one. What are you planning to steal next? The crown jewels?”

“I do hope you are not referring to your private parts, _my Lord_ , because the suggestion begins to sound tempting in my ears”, you hiss, turning the small knife in your hand slightly so that it touches his skin. “And I never stole anything to begin with.”

“Oh, really, and what do you call _this_ , then?” He gestures at the letter opener.

“I call it _replacing_ , as your trackers took my dagger.”

“Fair enough. I would still like to hear what happened to that necklace.”

“You tell me, as you practically tore it off and almost cut my neck while doing it.” You push harder, not quite drawing blood but getting close.

“So you have no idea of its whereabouts? Even though it went missing the same night you fled the realm?”

“What–?” Your eyes widen in shock, with your grip of the knife loosening momentarily. Noticing your bewilderment, Thranduil makes his move - In a flash, his fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling the knife away from his throat as his other hand grabs you around the neck. His legs push upward, throwing you off of him while his hand leads you down, slamming you against the ground as he quickly moves over your hips the same way you just did a moment before. 

You begin to punch his chest, trying to fight him off. “Get off me!”

He pushes your hands aside yet doesn’t pin them down, allowing you to keep throwing more punches on him while he calmly takes in every single one of them.

“Fight back or let me go, you stupid _,_ arrogant excuse of a King, you– you–” Tears rise in your eyes as your frustration grows, with all the conflicting feelings tearing through you. 

“You _what_?” 

His fingers take a hold of your wrists to stop you as he looks you straight in the eye now, suddenly looking agonized as he breathes silently: “Do tell me what I am to you.”

 

_\- End of Chapter 20 -_


	21. Two minds, one soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, adult content, +18

 

_Grabbing her wrists, Thranduil forces her to stop.  
_

_“Do tell me what I am to you.”_

_Her reaction is enough of a confirmation for him. The way her voice had cracked at the question - she really has no idea of what had happened. Which means only one thing…  
_

_He has done a terrible mistake._

_Tears run down her cheeks now, even though she tries to hold them back, blinking fast and biting her lip angrily as if she believed she could force herself to stop crying, to no avail.  
_

_“You really wish to know that, huh?”  
_

__Her voice is shaky as she draws breath, trying to get the words out while pulling her wrists that are still tightly in Thranduil’s hold. He has no intentions of letting go, though, so he pushes her back down, focusing his gaze on her._  
_

_“I do.”  
_

_Meeting his gaze for a second, she turns away, as if the next words were too painful for her to speak while looking at him. _  
__

__“You tear my soul apart.”_  
_

_Shocked, he freezes. Gone is the sharp-tongued lady, he notices as she gives up fighting, lying on the ground exhausted and completely defenseless. “First I allowed myself to think that maybe there was something… Perhaps you would have an interest in me. But the constant shifting of your mood, and all the other complications…” She sobs. “I just can’t take this any longer.”  
_

__The pain in her voice echoes through him as well, making his own eyes swell with tears. Thranduil moves, caressing her cheek with his fingers._  
_

_“Seems this is all just a great misunderstanding…”  
_

_After a moment of silence, he speaks:  
_

_“Would you believe me if I said I was only trying to protect myself?”  
_

_Her eyes turn to him, the hurt look in them asking: Why?  
_

_“After all that I have been through, losing so many of my loved ones… I thought I shouldn’t allow myself to grow this attached to anyone ever again, except my son. I thought it was for the best.”  
_

_“And then,_ you _came into my life.” His fingers curl around a strand of her hair, as he tries to find the right words. “Like the first breeze of spring after a long, cold winter, sweeping over me and leaving me dazed. Instead of bowing down to me like any common elf, you stood against me like an equal. Teasing me, testing my patience, all the while sparking my interest. I was afraid - _I didn’t know what to feel._ I knew I shouldn’t push the matters any further, but I couldn’t stop myself.“ Thranduil casts a knowing look at her, his heart swelling as he sees the blush rising on her cheeks at the remark.  
_

_“Then all this happened, and you disappeared… What was I supposed to think? It brought back the pain of caring of someone so deeply - As if I was scarred, getting hurt all over again. I was so angry at you for making me feel that way - but most of all, I was furious at myself for allowing that to happen.”  
_

_“I was also unsure of your feelings. Would you feel as deeply as I did, or was it all just an act? All the confusion, it was worse than anything I have felt for ages…“ he admits bitterly.  
_

_At first, she doesn’t say anything. Then, as if she had a realization, she whispers: “I could show myself to you, couldn’t I? If I use the same way you…um…”  
_

_Understanding, Thranduil replies: “Yes, osanwë. But if you haven’t used it before all by yourself…” He is slightly shocked that she would even agree to such a thing. Passing images was one thing, but sharing one’s true emotions…  
_

_“It doesn’t matter. I wish to try.” She looks at him, clear-eyed now. “There are so many words that should be passed in between us, but none are enough to explain…”  
_

_She falls silent, her eyes reaching out for him, as she focuses, trying to find her way to him. Then, he feels it - a flickering presence, tapping at the edge of his consciousness, shyly asking for his attention. Without thinking twice, he gives in to it._

_He is completely unprepared for the intensity._

_Thranduil is flooded by emotions that are not his own, but like mirror images of them, reflecting the same feelings, swirling around their counterparts in him - affection, love, hope, but also anger, sadness, frustration…  
_

_He had thought he was the only one hurting, but all this time… She had been in just as much pain.  
_

_“I am sorry… So sorry…” He whispers, closing his eyes as he bends down to touch her forehead. And then, for the first time in centuries, Thranduil opens up, allowing another living creature to feel the most hidden part of him, the emotions he had tried to keep to himself. She gasps, taking in all of it, softening as she recognizes the vulnerability he has been so afraid to show, in order to protect the things that hold most value to him.  
_

_They share the connection, all the while a single, desperate question hangs in between them:_

” _Can you ever forgive me?“  
_

_Slowly, she reaches out, blinking away tears as her lips meet his for a confirmation, a promise.  
_

_Feeling the absolution, Thranduil returns the kiss, holding her tenderly while she surrenders to his touch, her mouth opening for him as he brushes her lips._

_Kissing her like this causes the desire flood his veins like a wildfire, as he yearns more of her. _ _ _ _So long… For such a long time, he has been waiting…____  
_

_Pulling her on his lap, Thranduil wraps his hands around her waist, with the heat of her thighs pressing against him, which only makes him grow harder. It does not go unnoticed by her either, as a strong shudder travels through her body at the contact, causing him to hold her tighter against his body as he sways softly against her.  
_

_Allowing her time to breathe he breaks the kiss, listening to the sound of air passing through her lips as she draws breath - his hand has found her breast once more, caressing the skin.  
_

_Needing her closer, Thranduil grabs her tunic and lifts it over her head with a quick move. Her fingers find the brooch that holds his long coat in place, trying to get it undone. Without taking his eyes off her, his fingers slip down to help her open the pin, casting it aside with the garment without a second thought. It doesn’t take long before they are both bare, accompanied only by the moonlight that shines down upon their intertwined bodies.  
_

_She trembles beneath his hands now, so sensitive for the touch. Laying her over his coat, he gently forces her thighs apart, easing himself down in between her legs while making sure to not to crush her with his weight.  
_

_Thranduil stops for a mere second to look at the scenery before his eyes: There she lays, beneath him, with her hair spilled out around her like a halo. The light of the moon and stars above them reflect from her eyes as she looks back at him, raising her hand to caress his cheek. His heart jumps at the touch while he closes his eyes, focusing on the tenderness of her fingers as they run over his skin.  
_

_“Thranduil…”, she breathes.  
_

_Hearing his name fall from her lips in such a way…  He groans as he leans down to kiss her again, with his hand moving down her body. When his fingers find their way into her, she moans into his mouth. Her hips arch against him as he curls his fingers, marvelling the reaction it causes in her. His thoughts return to the first time they did this, when he had caught her after their little play, not quite making it to the end. It would be time to set things right.  
_

_Thranduil removes his hand, releasing her lips as he wants to see her face. Looking up at him through half-closed lids, she breathes heavily, waiting for him to make his move. Placing himself against her, his eyes ask the silent question, the permission…_

_A gleaming look, and a small nod. Her body rises ever so slightly, to welcome him, guiding him in. As he pushes into her, she lets out a gasp while closing her eyes, clearly feeling slight pain. Kissing her neck, Thranduil stays still for a moment before continuing, easing deeper inside, filling up all of her as she begins to relax against him. Slowly, he begins to move, his hips rising and falling in rhythm as she soon joins him, with their bodies moving together.  
_

_Such beauty… Her head falls back as Thranduil moves his lips along her jaw, her scent flooding his senses as he presses his mouth tightly against her soft skin, wanting to taste every inch of her. _The bewildering heat of her body urges him to move faster,_ with her fingers weaving their way into his long hair while her leg wraps around his hip, forcing him deeper.  
_

_Thranduil feels she is getting closer as her gasps grow louder, her body already spasming lightly around him. He groans, with his fingers digging into her hips to hold her while pushing harder, taking all of her…  
_

_Then, she unravels. Unable to control her scream, she contracts around him, causing him to follow soon after with her voice in his ears, calling his name as they ride out the waves together.  
_

_Still panting heavily, Thranduil withdraws, pulling her quivering body in his arms as he lies down next to her. She rests her head against his chest, planting a small kiss on his skin. There are no words, only the feelings of fulfillment and bliss, as they fall asleep under the starlit sky._

_\- End of chapter 21 -_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it’d be interesting to write one chapter like this from Thranduil’s point of view, sssooo here it is :)


	22. A Shadow That Grows in The Dark

_Thranduil wakes up briefly, only to bring his attention to the sleeping figure that is laying against his chest. She is breathing peacefully, the air tickling his skin. He notes a strand of hair that is covering the side of her face and raises his hand, gently picking up the curls and placing them behind her ear. The movement causes her to stir in her sleep as she curls closer to him, her fingers brushing his chest and making him shiver.  
_

_Thranduil holds her tighter, his arms around her body that is barely covered by his robes, warm and sensual against him. Closing his eyes, one single thought passes his mind:  
_

_“This time, it will be different…”_

 

The sun is shining brightly when you wake up from your sleep. Opening your eyes, you see the light playing on the stone walls of the cave, being reflected from the small pool of water. 

Something on the edge of your vision seems to glow brighter still, and you turn your head to see Thranduil’s face close to yours, his hair gathering the light of the sun. His eyes seem to have gotten their share of warmth as well, as you can’t remember ever seeing such a soft look in them.

The softness turns into mischief, as a smirk rises to his lips. “Heavy sleeper, I notice.”

You blush and instinctively move your hand to your cleavage, the stir of air on your bare chest alerting you to the fact that you are still very much naked. Gazing down, you silence a squeak that threatens to escape from your lips and pull up the edge of his robes that had been in a bundle around your hips. 

Thranduil lets out a laugh while moving his hand under the fabric. “I believe it is a little late for hiding yourself, little one, as I have been awake for _quite_ some time.”

 _Of course he has_ , you pout and wince when his fingers graze your stomach. 

“Not to mention,“ he plants a kiss on your neck, making you squirm in delight, “I have already seen all of that beautiful body of yours… Although, I wouldn’t refuse another closer inspection on it…”

You wouldn’t refuse it, either. Your body still remembers the pleasures of last night, and your heart is filled with so much warmth and love towards him, it’s about to burst. Reaching towards him, you bring your lips to his.

When you’re almost out of breath, he breaks the kiss, smiling at you and then sighing.

“I’m afraid we must go now. Feren has already shown some marvelous restraint to not come in here and witness this rather… _intimate_ state of ours.”

“Let me guess, your Highness specifically told him that anyone that enters this cave will be stripped bare and paraded around the realm as a punishment?” You tease, smirking at him.

“Something along those lines”, he admits dryly while you laugh at his facial expression.

Slowly, your expression changes as well. You still have some things that are worrying you. Noticing your look, he asks: “Is something wrong?”

“No, not really, but…” You feel almost afraid to even bring up the subject, but it feels absolutely necessary, so you reach out for him the way you did last night. It had been more difficult then, but this time you succeed without much effort. Thranduil opens up immediately to take in what you want to share with him, as images from your memories flash before his eyes.

His voice softens again, as he speaks: “I know.”

“You do?” Relief washes over you. “I thought…”

“Silevreneth visited me as well.” He looks at you. “I am aware of her decision… and blessing.” He kisses your hand, before leaning his forehead against yours. 

You whisper:

“I’m sorry for what happened to her…”

He stiffens, his voice shaky when he speaks: “It was terrible. Even though I try to tell myself there was nothing I could have done…”

“There was no way to prevent that from happening. I saw it through her eyes.” You shiver. “She was too far gone.” 

You remember a slight flicker of a memory he shared with you last night. “Is that why you carry two swords now?” You lean back to see his face, touching his cheek. “To make sure you’ll never be left weaponless again, when defending your loved ones?”

Thranduil closes his eyes. “I know it sounds ridiculous…”

“No, not at all… There is nothing wrong with wanting to protect what is most precious to you.” You run your fingers around his neck, holding him gently. This gives a whole new perspective to why he had gotten so furious about your little stunt with the sword throw. He had been left weaponless once, and it had been costly for him.

You stay silent for a minute, before you speak again:

“So… What are we going to do from now on? And how do we explain this all to your people?”

“Let me take care of that. I believe an official statement has to be made. But now,” he gazes towards the sky, “we must be on our way. I wish to be back in my kingdom before nightfall.”

 

______✽ ✽ ✽_ _ _ _ _ _

 

When you arrive back at the tents, you notice they are already gone. The trackers and guards must have packed everything during your absence, so that they would be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. 

The other elves don’t pay much attention to you. Considering how they didn’t take their eyes off you last night in fear of you running away, it’s quite a change - They do, however, notice the presence of their king, and bow their heads slightly as he walks by.

You take off towards the horses, but Thranduil spins you around.

“Oh, no, little one. You will be riding with me.” Without hearing your sound of protest, he gestures towards your right, where a giant elk stands beneath the trees.

You look at it cautiously. “Can it carry two?”

“Easier than a horse would. Trust me.”

You approach the magnificent creature. Its horns look like polished wood, and as you move closer to gently brush its fur, you find it softer than you expected. 

“It’s beautiful, “ You say and keep brushing the elk as it closes its eyes, clearly enjoying your touch.

“He is.” Thranduil comes to stand by your side. “The Great Elks grow large and can carry enormous weights. Norothion isn’t quite as enormous as his father was, but has still reached a considerable height.”

“How old is he?” You wonder out loud while grazing the elk’s ears, and duck when it tries to lick your face. Laughing, you move aside.

“At the moment? Almost eighty years.”

“Oh, I did not know they could live that long,” you look at the creature closely, yet it doesn’t show any signs of old age.

“They do generally have long lives. His father was nearing 200 years of age before he got slain in a battle, not too far from here actually…” He offers you his hand, helping you climb up to sit on the back of the massive animal before swinging himself behind you. 

“Fear not. He is a reliable steed.”

The other elves move to get their horses and arrange themselves behind their king, ready to leave. After a moment,Thranduil takes off, leading his people back home. 

_Home… It does have a nice ring to it_ , you think, wondering if you can now call their home yours as well, while you lean back against Thranduil’s chest.

 

______✽ ✽ ✽_ _ _ _ _ _

 

The sun is sinking lower on the sky and you’re well on your way to falling asleep to the soothing rhythm of the elk’s steps, when something causes you to jump awake, high on alert.

“Do you smell that?”

You can hear Thranduil drawing breath behind you, and the elk stops abruptly. 

“Smoke…”

A sickening feeling spreads through your core as you turn around, meeting his gaze that is filled with just as much fear as yours is.

Without another word, Thranduil pulls you tightly against him as he gathers the reins. “Hurry!” He shouts to the elves behind you, before leading the great elk forward.

The wind slams against you as you hold on tight. Norothion rushes through the forest, its master leaning closer while chanting words of encouragement and desperation, trying to urge him gallop faster.

As you are nearing the eastern border, you know something is terribly wrong: The border stations are empty, there isn’t a single guard nearby.

Then, you notice the flames that rise towards the sky. 

 

_\- End of chapter 22 -_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Norothion = Son of the Giant
> 
> So now comes the chapter we saw coming already in the beginning - The battle under the trees. Just a heads up, the next chapter is gonna be daaaark~


	23. Your World Will Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Descriptions of war and physical violence

_Thranduil sees the burning trees, the ache of loss spreading through him. All these years the forest had stood on its grounds, offering safety and a hiding place for his people. Yet now… It would all burn down to ashes._

_Gritting his teeth, he starts shouting orders for his guards.  
_

_No one would destroy his realm. Not on his watch._

 

 

 

 

Seeing the scenery that now spreads before your eyes, you cry:

“No…No! This wasn’t supposed to happen! I came here to stop this from ever happening!”

“Do not get ahead of yourself, we don’t know what is happening just yet,” Thranduil growls, yelling more orders to the elves as some of them draw out bows and arrows, ready to shoot. 

“But I do, I saw it…” You gasp, remembering the foul smell, the flames, loss of sunlight… This is it. And it horrifies you.

Stopping, Thranduil turns, his gaze sharpening: “ _You_ saw–?! Seems you have forgotten to mention that little detail, haven’t you?”

Gulping as you realize it too, you give him an apologetic look and plead: “It was lady Galadriel’s orders - but now isn’t the time to discuss about that!” You gesture hastily towards the realm. “They need you. They need _us_.” Your heart twists as you hear cries in elvish, accompanied with sounds of clashing metal.

After a fleeting moment of stillness, Thranduil caresses your hand and jumps down from the elk’s back. Then, as if making a decision, he turns towards you: “You stay up there, Norothion will take you to a safe place.” He draws one of his swords, the light of the deadly flames reflecting from it and casting a reddish hue on his face.

“I will _not_ leave you here!”

Your eyes meet for a moment - His gaze is filled with sadness, which slowly turns into determination, as he speaks:

“Yes, you will.”

Without another word, he raises his hand and brings his open palm hard down on the elk’s side, sending it on a rushed gallop.

 _“NO!_ ” You scream while you grab fistfuls of Norothion’s fur, trying to stay on its back as the elk strides towards safer grounds. Glancing behind you, you see Thranduil standing there, watching you leave, the whole posture of his body heavy with sorrow as he turns away, towards the battle.

You try to yell for him, but the wind forces the words back down your throat, as he vanishes into the smoke and flames.

 

______✽ ✽ ✽_ _ _ _ _ _

 

Pulling the reins, you try to force Norothion into a halt, but he doesn’t obey. 

“Stop! _STOP!_ We must go back!” 

The elk doesn’t seem to hear you, but keeps moving forward. As you desperately pull from the reins again, Norothion makes a sound and yanks them from your reach, now free of all control. Trees rush by, the sound of the elk’s feet thrumming against the ground as it leads you away from the battle. And away from Thranduil. 

A terrible feeling runs through you. Glancing towards the ground, you gather your courage, whispering: 

“ _Valar_ , give me strength…”

Then, you jump.

 

______✽ ✽ ✽_ _ _ _ _ _

 

By some miracle, you manage to land without serious injuries, though the skin in your palms rips open as your hands meet the ground. Not caring about the pain, you rise up, turning back and running towards the flames, away from safety.

Soon there is mayhem all around you, elves and orcs surging in and out of your view as you rush in midst of the chaos. The heat of the flames burns your lungs and the smoke stains your vision as you try to find what you’re looking for, all the while the battle rages around you. You dimly notice the fallen figures scattered around the ground, too many of them with a halo of silky elven hair sprawled around their blood-stained faces and broken bodies.

Picking up a sword from a fallen elf, you make your way forward, searching frantically with your eyes as you try to avoid all the hurling figures and flashing weapons. Suddenly, everything around you begins to feel odd, making you feel lightheaded and stopping you on your tracks. Lifting a hand to your temple, you try to make sense of it all, when it dawns to you. You gaze around you, and you understand:

The scenery feels odd, for you have already witnessed it all once before. 

As if confirming this, you finally see him - Thranduil stands near one of the burning trees, his swords slicing and cutting as he swirls, engaged in a deathly dance where even a single misstep will be lethal. 

He is fighting off a scary amount of orcs on his own, a few of his guards fighting near him but unable to hold them back. Their numbers are too limited. Without a second thought you take off, leaping through the battle while trying to avoid getting hit or caught. Your mind is fixated to one thing only, and you see nothing but him as you make your way through the mass of fighters between you and him. Just when you are less than fifty yards away from him, he turns, and freezes as he sees you. 

For a moment it appears as if he was trying to wonder whether you’re really there of if he’s seeing things, but then the horror sets on his features as he recognizes you as real. Opening his mouth, he is about to shout something, when more orcs surge at him, forcing him to turn his attention elsewhere. 

Remembering what happened in your vision, your blood runs cold. You rush towards him as one of the orcs manages to pierce through his defense, slicing his left arm. Grimacing in pain, Thranduil attempts to hold on to his sword - but the next attacker slams it from his fingers. You run, screaming for his name, when a creature twice his size appears through the smoke, holding an axe in its hands and raising it higher… 

You turn away from Thranduil and surge towards the gigantic orc instead, holding your sword with both hands. Yelling, you try to get its attention, and succeed. 

Trying to avoid the sweeping axe you duck and roll on the ground, sliding for a bit before finding steady holding for your feet and surging again. The massive orc brings the axe down and you jump aside, having a clear shot to its backside. Cursing the creature’s height, you drive your sword to the place you see as most vulnerable and right on your reach: behind its knee. 

The blade sinks into the blackened flesh, twisting in your hands as you try to push it deeper, the pain in your palms intensifying at the effort. The creature howls in pain and collapses on its wounded leg, breaking your sword in pieces with its enormous weight. You jump out of the way, now without a weapon of your own. 

Suddenly, an orc grabs you by your hair, and you yell in pain. Thranduil hears you, turning around and jumping to you without thinking. Your hair is released as he engages in a fight, casting you aside. You tumble on the ground, hitting your head on the rocks. You gag as a wave of nausea shoots through you, making you feel violently dizzy as your head feels to be spinning out of its place. 

Wiping your hair away from your face, you turn to look back at Thranduil - and freeze. The creature whose leg you wounded has pulled closer, trying to get up as it reaches down and pulls the remains of your blade from its leg, holding the jagged edge in its hands. Oblivious about the rivers of blood running down its leg, it approaches Thranduil once again, half-crawling yet relentless.

Not caring about the dizziness, you pull yourself up and run towards them as the creature raises the sharp piece in its hand. Thranduil’s sword is interlocked with one of the orc’s blades, as he starts to turn around, noticing the threat. You know he cannot defend himself - 

Thranduil sees you coming, but has no time to react - with his scream in your ears, your throw yourself forward, between him and the orc as it drives down the piece of broken sword. 

_I will keep him safe._


	24. Wrath and Ruin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Warning, descriptions of physical violence and war, graphic death)

Your world seems to shrink in on itself, the rest of your surroundings disappearing as you see only the sharp edge of the blade, casting the deathly reflection of the fire, being driven towards Thranduil. Your body acts without thinking, as you hurl forward, knowing that you cannot stop the orc from delivering its blow - but you can stop it from reaching Thranduil.

It’s all a blur. You see the flash of the blade, hear his scream as a sharp pain pierces your side, searing through you like a white-blazing fire, and then… nothing.

 

_______✽ ✽ ✽_ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

_Thranduil had prepared for the possibility that he wouldn’t survive the battle. But what he had been completely unprepared for…_

 

_As she had thrown herself forward, he had realized in a flash what was about to happen. Yelling, he had tried to release his sword, but it was still tightly interlocked with the other orc’s weapon, keeping him stuck where he was, unable to do nothing but watch as she had sailed in between him and the blade… Which had, with utter finality, sunken into her body, blood bursting from the wound.  
_

_Their eyes had met for a mere second, as she had first looked down at herself, then raised her head to look at him, the pain and agony evident, as her eyes had closed and her body collapsed on the ground.  
_

_And there she lays now, as Thranduil kneels next to her, after fighting himself free and slaying both of the orcs that had been around them. Pulling the shard out of her side he tries to stop the bleeding, her blood staining his fingers as he presses against her, desperate, begging…  
_

_“Please… Please… Do not leave me…”  
_

_But she lays there, unresponsive, without any sign that she would hear him. Tears begin to swell in his eyes, as he reaches for her face, cupping her cheek,  accidentally smearing it with her own blood…  
_

_A part of Thranduil wishes to lay down next to her, until death would come for them both. But that part is soon drowned under the rage that now sweeps through him, staining the edges of his vision scarlet as he reaches for his sword. He hears more orcs approaching, the thumping of their feet drawing closer as he grips the hilt of his blade, and springs up.  
_

_______✽ ✽ ✽_ _ _ _ _ _   
_

 

Edraith and Tharon fight their way forward, both stained with the dark blood of their enemies as well as their own. Tharon has a deep cut on his face, forcing him to blink away drops of blood from clouding his vision as he fights. Edraith has abandoned his bow, as it does him little good now that he has used all the arrows. Instead, he has his two shortswords drawn, cutting through the line of orcs in front of him while trying to see through the smoke that covers everything.

Then, they see king Thranduil in front of them. Something in him is almost frightening to watch: He has always been a great warrior, but this is something different - There is unspeakable rage in his movements, as he slashes and cuts, seemingly indifferent of his bleeding arm while he moves in a circle, protecting a slumped figure that lays on the ground…

 _“NO!”_ The scream escapes Edraith’s lips as he realises who it is, whose bleeding body Thranduil is protecting with all his might. Running forward, he reaches her body, cradling her head while Tharon runs to them, his face sickly pale under the stains of dirt and blood. 

Edraith shakes her, trying to wake her up, but in vain. Hastily, he reaches for her throat, feeling the veins there…

And finds a pulse. Weak, but nevertheless.

“She’s alive!” He yells at Tharon who stands next to him, reaching for his vest and pulling it over his head so he can press it against her bleeding side.

In an instant, the King appears in front of him. His voice is distant, almost like belonging to someone else as he shouts:

“Stop the bleeding. Take her away from here!” 

“But where?! They got through the gates and inside the realm!” 

Thranduil lets out a few incoherent words, growling in fury, before he continues: “Have you been able to build some sort of a stronghold?!”

“Most of the realm is still secured, but the front gate is out of question–”

“Then take her in through the river caves! There is a pathway that should still be open, it begins from behind the rocks near the two trees that have grown together–”

Thranduil is interrupted by another attacker as he moves aside, blocking the orc from reaching the rest of their little group. _“Go!”_ he yells, pushing the orcs back and giving the two elves the opening they need. 

“Take her,” Edraith commands Tharon, as he is the stronger one. Tharon sweeps her up in his arms, taking off towards the rocky hill that hides the Woodland Realm beneath its surface, as Edraith runs next to him, stabbing at anything that tries to come at them, as they race against time.

 

Soon enough, they reach the hidden passageway, no more than a slit in the rocks that cover the hill, opening into one of the tunnels in the caves. Tharon hands the girl over to Edraith while he jumps down in the cave, reaching up with his arms to take her as Edraith lowers her to him. Her body twists at the movement, despite them trying to move her with extreme care. Screaming in agony, she gains consciousness momentarily, gasping for breath as the pain in her body threatens to overtake her once more. 

Hearing her pained shout, some orcs appear from behind the trees, surging at them. In haste, Edraith drops her to Tharon’s arms, so that he may get his own hands free, ignoring the pained whine she lets out.

“Take her to safety, and make sure someone helps with that wound! I will stay here and keep them away from the tunnel–”

“Edraith! Don’t be a fool, you cannot stand alone against all of the orcs!”

“They can’t be allowed near the tunnel!” Edraith’s tone is final, as he grabs his swords. “I will do what I was sent here to do. And now I ask you to do the same!” 

Tharon looks at his friend with great sadness, knowing that it might be the last time they lay their eyes upon each other. Then, he says, grimly:

_“Gurth anin yrch.”_

_“Gurth anin yrch,”_ Edraith repeats, and strides forward _._

_______✽ ✽ ✽_ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

 _Tharon was right, as always. There’s too many of them_ , Edraith realizes as he tries to keep back the pack of orcs trying to get past him. He has already lost his other shortsword, left with only one in his hands.

Seeing that his chances are running low, he begins to search frantically with his eyes - and then he sees something: A pile of rocks, gathered on a thin ledge high above the passageway. Knowing the Mirkwood elves, it most surely isn’t a bare coincidence that they have been set up there in such a manner. A perfect way to seal the tunnel, so that no one may enter. If only he got up there…

He runs towards the rocks and starts climbing, all the while trying to avoid the orcs slashing and clawing at him. One or two try to follow him as a few others run towards the tunnel. 

One of the orcs standing further back lets out a harsh laugh, the sound like stones grinding against each other. It shouts something in a language Edraith doesn’t understand, and he picks up his pace, fearing that–

 _Thump_. Pain flares across his arm, as he yells in pain. Grabbing the stone wall with one hand, he turns his gaze to his other arm: A black arrow, with filthy, stained feathers, protrudes from the flesh, the agony unspeakable. 

Knowing that there will be more, he grits his teeth and forces himself forward, dragging his body up towards the ledge, trying to ignore the pain as something scratches his cheek, hitting the stones. Another arrow, barely missed. 

Finally, he reaches the ledge, pulling himself up on it. Through the pain, he tries to make out the pattern of the stones, searching for the one which, when released, would send the rest down with it. 

Finding it, he raises his sword, ready to plunge it into the gap behind it -

And that is when the third arrow hits him from behind, piercing his back. 

Gasping for air he no more cannot contain, his hands go still. The orcs down below stare at the fatally wounded elf above them, cruel smiles on their faces, expecting him to fall.

And fall he does. But not before he strikes down with his sword, driving it into the gap behind one of the rocks and _twisting_. 

The rock moves forward, causing the rest to stumble down with it, the ground shaking as the heavy stones fall on it, covering the gap of the hidden passageway and the orcs that were trying to get in it. 

As the dust settles, the tunnel is covered with rocks. Edraith lies next to the rocks, his body unmoving, the twisted blade crushed under one of the stones.

He had done his last sacrifice to ensure that the others would stay safe. And now, they would. _  
_

_\- End of chapter 24 -_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gurth anin yrch = Death to the orcs
> 
> Now this was a tough chapter. It really does hurt to kill of your own characters, make no mistake - but, sadly, Edraith had it coming right from the start. That’s why I chose his name, “The saving one”.


	25. How shall this day end?

_Later on, the elves of the Woodland realm would tell stories of their King in battle. There had been several battles before, but in none of them had he been more in rage than this. The sight of him was almost as frightening to witness as the inferno that was burning around them - he was relentless, leading his people forward with fury, the look in his eyes promising death as he advanced the enemies, those who had laid ruin to his realm, who had killed his people.  
_

_Eventually, all of the enemies were slain. Many say it was because of the King. His rage and will to protect their home had led his people to victory._

_But Thranduil himself cared not for praises. All he had seen were the lives lost, sorrow all that he had felt as he had knelt down to some of the fallen elves, closing their eyes and bidding them farewell before they had been taken away. He had touched the still heated surface of the burned trees, the black ash smearing his gloves.  
_

_Slowly, almost hesitantly, he had made his way towards the realm, and the one person he had been afraid to see, not knowing if she was dead or alive. Once he had been sure that the enemy was gone, and that Feren had everything under control, he had made his way to the infirmary._

_And here he stands now, next to a narrow bed, while dozens of elves run around, tending to the wounded. Several had tried to pry off his armor to help clean his wound, but he had sent every single one away. His eyes are fixated to the figure lying on the bed, her side covered with bloody bandages. Her breaths are shallow, obviously causing her pain despite her being unconscious, but Thranduil counts them, blessing every single one that passes from her pale lips._

_They do not know if she would wake up. The wound is deep. They had been able to stop the internal bleeding, but the rest was up to her, on how much her body and mind could take.  
_

_One of her companions sits near the corner. Tharon, he remembers. Thranduil is about to ask where Edraith is, when Tharon lifts his head, and he knows: The pain is etched into his features, and it tells enough.  
_

_Another lost life for the elves.  
_

_“Your Highness.”_

_Thranduil turns slightly, seeing Emlineth standing at his side._

_“We need to clear your wound.”_

_“Not now. I wish to be alone.” He closes his eyes for a brief second. Before, the adrenaline pumping in his veins had made him oblivious to the pain in his arm. Now that the adrenaline was fading, the dull pain was growing stronger, yet he tried to ignore it still._

_“With all respect, your Highness, sometimes you can be such a stubborn fool - That armor is going to be removed, and it will be removed_ now _.”_

_The clipping tone in Emlineth’s voice startles Thranduil, as he turns back towards her. Rarely does someone dare to speak to him in such a manner, except for his son… And the girl that now lays on the bed next to him.  
_

_For a moment they simply stare at each other, neither faltering. Finally, Emlineth continues: “It will do you no good to let your own wound get infected while standing there. We have done everything in our power to help her. Now I must help_ you _.” She gestures at him to turn, the look in her eyes warning him to not try to protest her._

_Slowly, he turns, allowing her access to the straps that hold his breastplate in place. After some wiggling (and some incoherent words escaping from Thranduil), the armor comes off, and Emlineth removes his jacket. She tuts when she sees the wound in his arm._

_“A close call. Any deeper cut and it would have severed the tendon.”_

_Thranduil does not respond, as he allows her to clean the blood off him, holding back from grunting out loud when she pulls his skin._

_“Now that you are here… I heard a brief summary from Feren as he tried to explain what happened. How did they get inside?”_

_“Erchiel.” She replies bitterly. “She had found the orcs. She led them here.”_

_Thranduil hisses in pain as she presses a wet cloth with something stinging against his arm, rubbing and pinching it carefully._

_“Do continue.”  
_

_“The border guards alerted us, that something was wrong. But the messenger birds we sent out to them never came back. We pulled everyone inside, closed the gates, and waited. Then they heard yelling from behind the gate. In elvish. They thought someone had been left outside. We tried to see who it was, but the arrowslits had been covered with something, so we were completely blind… They opened the gates ever so slightly.”  
_

_Emlineth closes her eyes. “It was a mistake.”_

_After a moment of stillness she shifts, reaching for a needle and thread to sew the wound shut. “Erchiel was there. But she wasn’t alone - There were orcs behind her. As soon as the gates opened, they killed her, and then the gate guards.” Emlineth looks grim. “They begun to flood inside, and soon we could smell something else… they started several fires in the forest, and many of us got outside, tried to stop them… We managed to stop the fire from spreading all over the northern forest, but many of the trees…”  
_

_After a moment of silence, Emlineth says:  
_

_“I can’t believe she did that… betrayed her own people. For those.. beasts_ _.” she sounds disgusted.  
_

_“I doubt she saw reason… She must have been taken over by something else.” Thranduil mutters.  
_

_Emlineth gives him a questioning look, and he sighs.  
_

_“I believe there is something I must share with all of you… Once the worst of this is over.” He moves, sitting on the ground. “But for now, I will share it with you directly.”_

_And so he speaks, with heavy words, the truth of the late Queen, the events he knew of that had led to her death. Sharing the story does not feel quite so painful, as if the worst of it had already worn off, which he is grateful for.  
_

_Emlineth, however, looks horrified, her hands flying to her mouth when Thranduil tells about Silevreneth’s decision. “The Queen… That is what happened to her? We believed she died in the attack, that she was brought back to the realm but was followed and killed…”  
_

_Thranduil nods, not speaking. Emlineth rushes to the next question in her mind: “So… You believe that the same darkness that took over the Queen… Was in Erchiel too?”  
_

_“I can only make assumptions at this point… But knowing how everything happened, I dare to think they are quite accurate.” Furrowing his brows, Thranduil continues: “My late wife was able to get to Erchiel, with whatever power she was posessed by. Erchiel was, out of loyalty to her, willing to listen to the evil inside of her, and do her bidding. Despite Silevreneth dying and taking that source with her, I believe some of it was still left in Erchiel, lingering inside of her heart for all these years… until it was sparked to life by another being.”  
_

_Emlineth freezes. “You mean… She wasn’t even herself anymore?”  
_

_Thranduil shakes his head. “Not quite. But do bear in mind, that while Silevreneth was out of the reach of any help we could offer, that evil did not engulf Erchiel the same way it did with her. It touched her only briefly. However…” He sees the memories of the scene flashing before his eyes, remembering how Erchiel had leaned closer to Silevreneth, towards her touch, while still holding the little prince in her arms…  
_

_“…Erchiel chose to welcome that evil inside her, and feed it. And once she found a suitable source to whom she could unleash all of it… She lost herself. Her desire to destroy most likely led her to the beings that shared that desire, as I do believe they are, in some way, connected.”_

_“Just the way that those who seek to do good may find each other.” Emlineth wonders, stitching the wound with experienced hands._

_“I do wonder how she survived with them… Orcs are eager to kill, after all, especially those who are not one of their own.”  
_

_“Perhaps they recognized a kindred spirit,” Emlineth says, flinching of disgust. “I suppose we will never know.”  
_

_Once she is done wrapping a clean bandage around Thranduil’s arm, she stands, collecting her things.  
_

_“Oh, before I forget…” Emlineth reaches into her apron, searching for something before extending her arm. “This was found from Erchiel.”  
_

_Raising his fingers, Thranduil takes the tiny object hanging from a broken chain, with blood smeared over it. The Star. His fist closes around the pendant, while he lets out a weary sigh._

_“And so, the circle closes…”  
_

_\- End of chapter 25 -_


	26. "...And there are many paths to tread..."

You float through nothingness, unable to get a hold of anything except for the sudden flares of pain that surge through your body from time to time. Everything is dark, and you feel tired. Extremely tired. You close your eyes, almost giving in to the weariness…

_“Open your eyes.”_

A familiar voice speaks to you, and you force your eyes open, despite the heaviness of your eyelids and the grey, lifeless light that pierces your vision, revealing just enough of your surroundings.

Silevreneth stands before you, next to a massive archway that has appeared out of nowhere. You can’t see what’s beyond it, but moving closer to it, oddly enough, lessens the painful flares in your side.

“…Am I dead?” You ask, touching your side with your hand. There is no wound, although the pain is still there, like an itch you can’t get to, bothering you at every moment.

She gives you a small, serene smile, and shakes her head. _“Not yet. But, as you might notice, you are at the crossroads between the worlds of the living and the deceased.”_ She glances at the archway, and at once the realization hits you, sending a cold shiver down your spine.

“Is that… The Halls of Mandos?”

She nods ever so slightly. _“The entryway is here before you, and it means you have a choice to make. Whether to pass on to a place where your wounds will be gone, and you may be at peace…”_ she gestures towards the entryway, _“…or to return to a place where you are in much pain, but also have something precious waiting for you.”_

You look behind you, to the darkness where you came from. Taking a step towards it sends a sharp pain pulsing down your side, making you grimace.

“How can I make such a decision? What should I do?”

Silevreneth looks sad. _“This is your choice to make, dear, not mine.”_ She walks over to you, placing her hand on your cheek. _“But choose wisely. Once you have made the decision, there is no going back.”_

You gulp. “Such a great responsibility over one single choice…” _  
_

_“These decisions are never easy. My own was made long ago. I protected the ones that mattered to me the most, and I do not regret it.”_ She smiles. _“So did you. You saved him. You were brave.”_

Thranduil. The name awakens something in you, almost pulling you backwards, away from the archway.

 _“I do, however, wish to tell you this… You have a chance at something I never had. You can still go back to him.”_ Slievreneth says, wondering. _“Will it be painful? Most certainly. But there are some things that are worth the pain.”_

 _“Whatever you may choose… I will hail you as a sister. You are welcome to join me in the Halls of Mandos, if you so choose, in which case I will expect to see you soon. If you choose to return to life, I will now bid you farewell, and wish you happiness.”_ She bows her head.

You stand still, suddenly fearful. “What if I’m not strong enough?” You whisper, glancing behind you.

Silevreneth turns you to face her, smiling again. _“You have always been a warrior.”_ Planting a kiss on your forehead, she steps back. _“Remember that. Courage is never lost, only forgotten temporarily.”_

Then, with a last look at you, she walks towards the entryway, disappearing as she passes the arch. You are alone.

 

_______✽ ✽ ✽_ _ _ _ _ _ _

  
The decision seems impossible to make. You want to return, more than anything, but the pain scares you. _What if it will never go away?_ It’s worse than anything you’ve ever had to endure…

And yet… It feels unlikely that you could ever find peace in the Halls of Mandos if you decided to leave him now… After all you’ve been through.

Gulping, you turn away from the gateway, facing the darkness. Hesitating for a moment, it feels like a million things are racing through your mind at once. Pushing them away, you close your eyes, drawing breath…

You start walking, and at once, the pain intensifies. You grit your teeth, forcing yourself forward with shaky, small steps.

You push forward despite the pain, your body feeling heavier by the second, the air around you cold and unwelcoming. Despite not seeing anything through the darkness, you focus your thoughts on the one person you wish to see: His eyes, the pale blue color of them, the softness in his gaze when he looks at you… The warmth of his embrace when he holds you, the feeling of belonging…

All of a sudden, a small ray of light cuts the darkness, winking at you in the distance. You move towards it, when you hear something.

_“Please… Come back…”_

Thranduil’s voice is full of despair, and your heart twists. Without thinking, you take off running, forgetting the pain as you chase the light in front of you, reaching for his voice.

The light seems to be growing stronger, spreading around you, and then -

You feel as if you have just resurfaced from a deep dive underwater, gasping for breath. The pain in your body is intense, but manageable, you notice.

Then, you see who stands before you.

Never before have you seen him like this - Streaks of dried tears over his high cheekbones, his eyes tired and shiny, the paleness of his skin more prominent than ever. His eyes widen as he looks at you, suddenly lost for words.

You try to steady your breath for a moment before muttering: “Well, look at that. My king, speechless for once…”

Thranduil lets out a sound bordering between a sob and laughter, leaning over to press his face into your hair, as a single thought beats in your head:

_I survived._

 

_\- End of chapter 26 -_


	27. Wood of Greenleaves

_Her hands are on his face, trying to erase the marks of tears from his cheeks despite having tears flowing from her own eyes just as well.  
_

_“Thank the Valar, I thought…” Thranduil can’t bring himself to finish the sentence, with the tightness in his throat almost bringing more tears to his eyes._

_“I am here…” She lifts his chin, looking at him in the eye. “I am here.”  
_

 

 

 

 

 _Never would the King of elves have imagined himself in a situation like this - he is the one supposed to be consoling_ her _, not the other way around.  
_

_Thranduil is a wreck, completely out of control. And yet he couldn’t care less as he buries his face back into her the crook of her neck, feeling her warmth and finally believing she is very much there with him, alive.  
_

_She shifts slightly in his arms, and he remembers her wound. She might be awake, but not in full health. Thranduil lets go of her, holding only her hands. His are shaking, but she says nothing about it. Trying to keep his voice steady, he speaks:  
_

_“How do you feel?”  
_

_“In all honesty?” She flexes her side ever so slightly and winces in pain. “As if an orc used me for target practice, that’s how.”  
_

_Thranduil can’t help the sudden burst of laughter that escapes his lips, and she smirks. His smile wanes, though._

_“Seeing you carried away, and not knowing what was happening… I thought the worst. There was so much blood…”  
_

_“Did I not tell you, that I may be tougher than I look?” She says, smiling wearily, probably reminded by one of their earliest moments alone.  
_

_“You certainly are, little one…” He moves his other hand that isn’t holding hers, and caresses the side of her face, with a gentle touch that he hopes will ease her pains.  
_

_“Rest now…” Thranduil whispers as her eyes slowly close, sleep whisking her away, yet her fingers never loosen their grip of his hand.  
_

 

_______✽ ✽ ✽_ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

_Several weeks later_

 

You run your hands down the front of your glimmering dress, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles in your nervous state.

Thranduil would return today. He has been away for some time, arranging matters with lord Celeborn and lady Galadriel and ensuring that the forest would be completely cleared of any dark creatures that still might linger there. You had wanted to accompany him, but he had been unyelding in his demand for you to allow yourself to heal in peace.

Looking back, it had most likely been the right choice. Pressing your hand to your side, you recall how intense the pain had been at first. At some point, it had started fading. There wasn’t even a visible scar anymore, so bodily you appear to be in perfect health.

But on some nights, when the nightmares of the battle returned, you’d wake up with that same pain, barely able to gasp for air. Whenever Thranduil had been there, he had soothed you, helping you to gain your senses. Eventually it had helped you to learn to calm down on your own, whenever the nightmares had returned. It had been essential for you to master, especially now that he had been away for some time. _Osanwë_ had been a good way of connecting and served its purpose, but it still wasn’t the same as if he was _actually_ there with you.

A knock on the door interrupts your thoughts. Emlineth opens the door, not waiting for you to come and open it for her.

“My lady, he’s here.”

“Finally.” A jolt of happiness surges through you. Without another word, you gather your skirts and follow her to the upper levels as she speaks:

“His Majesty has summoned everyone to the ballroom for a feast. He says he has great news to deliver.”

“Well, I better hope so, otherwise all this time spent away has been for nothing”, you mutter dryly, and Emlineth laughs.

You pass a group of humans on your way in to the ball room, and end up being fiercely hugged by Mary, with Agnés and Tristan on her heels. Agnés still looks weary, but you can’t really blame her, considering they had lost all of their earthly belongings, including their home. 

Mirkwood hadn’t been the only place that had faced an attack: Easterlings had attacked Dale and Erebor, forcing the inhabitants of both to retreat inside the Lonely Mountain before they had managed to drive the Easterlings back and away. Significant parts of Dale had been destroyed, and it was being rebuilt. In the meantime, most of the folk of Dale was settled in Erebor, but you had invited Agnés and her family along with a couple other families to stay in the Woodland Realm, until they would have a place to return to.

A small convoy of Lothlórien elves stands on one side of the room, and you notice lady Galadriel and Celeborn amongst them. Meeting Galadriel’s eyes, you bow your head slightly, and she repeats the gesture, with a knowing smile on her lips that leaves you wondering the cause of it.

You’re about to descend the stairs, when a hand lands on your shoulder, stopping you.

“Why such a haste, little one?”

You turn on your heels.

He is dressed in a silvery white ceremonial armor, with his familiar spiky crown resting on his head, but this time decorated with green leaves. His blue eyes are set on you, taking you in. Your heart is about to beat its way through your chest as you feel the blush creeping up your cheeks - It feels foolish that he can still cause such a reaction in you, yet you can’t help it. 

“Thranduil…”

“Don’t you escape anywhere, I would like for you to stand right here with me.” Thranduil moves you slightly to the side of the stairs, letting people pass. 

“Any feelings of longing for me during our time apart, my lady?” He asks, with a playful tone.

Glaring at him sideways, you reply with mockery in kind: “Oh? Is his Highness worried that the sweet lady may have forgotten about him, and the greatness of his persona?” 

Thranduil chuckles, but his gaze softens. “I did miss you, and that spirit of yours.”

You feel flushed and think about just embracing him right then and there, when Feren stops in front him. “My lord, everyone has arrived. Should we begin?”

“Yes.” Thranduil squeezes your shoulder briefly, before he lets go of you and steps in the middle of the grand staircase, addressing the folk gathered downstairs. The crowd notices the presence of the King and falls silent, waiting eagerly for his words.

“I have summoned you here today, to witness the beginning of a new era.”

“I am most delighted to let you know, that the woods have been cleared of any remaining servants of darkness. Our lands belong to us once more.”

The elves rejoice when hearing about this, and he allows them to do so for a moment, before raising his voice again.

“Together with lord Celeborn and lady Galadriel”, he gestures towards them, “we have worked to ensure the safety of our people and allies. The woods shall be divided equally, with Lothlórien ruling the southern part, and the Beornings granted the rule over the Narrows. As for us,” he gestures at his elves, “we shall rule the northern forest, all the way to the mighty Mountains of Mirkwood.”

Thranduil gestures to an elf standing behind him, and he brings forth a tiny jar, from which a small beech sprout is reaching towards the ceiling with its delicate green leaves, some of them smudged with traces of black soot. He takes it in his hands, gently, and turns back to speak to his audience;

“With great pleasure, we shall rename our lands Eryn Lasgalen, by the greenleaves of our woods and new life that has returned under its branches, despite the devastation that tried to destroy it.”

Thranduil raises the tiny plant.

“As this new life rises, we shall rise as well. Thus, I announce this to be the New Year of the Elves. No more will our forest be under the great shadow!”

All the elves in the hall raise their drinks, hailing at his words. You see so many faces, many showing signs of sorrow, yet still smiling through tears. 

Tharon stands in the crowd as well, and a familiar pang of sadness courses through you. You had learned of Edraith’s sacrifice some time after you had gained consciousness, and it had sent you crying for a long while, leaving you in pain as the sobs forced your still healing side to convulse, bringing forth even more tears.

It would take time for the wounds to heal, for all of you. But everything would pass, with time. It would have to. 

After a while, Thranduil raises his hand, with the crowd falling silent.

“Now, there is still one important thing I wish to do…”

One of the elves walks up the stairs, carrying a decorated box. She bows in front of Thranduil before opening the lid, and you gasp.

On a velvet cushion lays a beautiful crown: Made of thin silver, it curls in tiny twig-like parts, with pale jewels set in the form of leaves. The sunlight that shines through the roof glimmers on their surface, casting rainbows of colors on Thranduil’s hands as he bends over to pick up the delicate crown. 

“I am well aware that our traditions would require us to spend a year in betrothal before moving forth, but I do feel I have shown quite enough patience during my lifetime.” 

Grinning at the crowd, he continues: “I am also well aware of what they say of our people in general, of how we compare to our other kin.” This erupts a series of knowing mutter and laughter from the crowd. “Well, if being in love makes me less wise and more dangerous, then so be it. We shall be just that, together, as a people. I intend to make my kingdom whole, and a complete kingdom needs a queen.”

Lifting the crown, he turns and speaks directly to you:

“My lady, would you accept my most sincere offer of marriage, and with that, the honor to rule this realm beside me, as queen?”

You breath hitches in your throat as your eyes swell with tears. Trying to keep your voice stable, while looking at him in the eye, you say:

“…Yes… I would.”

At that, he smiles, the loveliness of it lighting the whole space as he walks to you, placing the crown over your head. The cool silver touches your forehead, resting lightly against your skin. You can hear Mary squeak of excitement somewhere in the crowd, and can’t help but smile.

As Thranduil takes your hand, he turns towards the crowd that now cheers merrily. Whatever reaction he had expected, it hadn’t been this. Thranduil looks moved, swallowing hard. Leaning close, you whisper gently:

“Did you not trust that your people would accept me?” 

“I must admit, I had my doubts… But none of it matters now.” He pulls you closer, unashamed as he bends down to kiss you.

_______✽ ✽ ✽  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _

The elves and men alike have crowded the dance floor, the movement and music allowing them to forget their sorrows for a while and just enjoy, as they throw back their heads and swirl as one, holding hands with each other. 

As you circle the room, you notice two tall, pale elves pacing calmly towards you. Lady Galadriel whispers something to Celeborn, who falls behind and allows her to meet you alone.

“Your Highness. How you have changed since the last time we spoke.” Lady Galadriel smiles, raising her hand to her heart for a greeting.

“My lady, you flatter me…” You manage, abashed by her calling you with such a high title.

“Hardly, my dear.” She takes your hand and leads you aside. “Watching you now, it’s as if a completely different person left my realm a year ago. You have grown so much. Not on the outside,” she adds, noticing you raising your eyebrow, “but inside. And it reflects in everything you do.”

Blushing, you lower your gaze. “It does not feel as if I was any more complete than before…”

“No one is ever complete with development, my dear. We continue to learn, and change in the process, in order to become the best versions of ourselves.” Lady Galadriel gives you a peculiar look. “Even I have my faults. But I try to learn from them, and be compassionate. And so do you. You will make a great queen, that I am sure of.”

“It is quite a responsibility to carry…” You soothe down the front of your gown again, nervous of what you’re about to admit. “I do not know if I’m capable of holding such power…”

“Oh, but I have noticed that those who do not _seek_ the power are most fit for leadership.” She smiles again. “They take it on themselves, and do their best with it, without letting the power corrupt them. Just trust yourself, and your King. You are not alone.” 

Touching you gently on the shoulder, she leaves, Celeborn stepping up to meet her as they continue towards the doors.

You walk to the main table, where Thranduil is seated. He helps you sit.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, his fingers playing with your hair.

“Slightly overwhelmed”, you admit, and he nods knowingly. “As I just told lady Galadriel as well. She seems to have more faith in me than I personally do”.

“It is a great responsibility. But, try to look at it this way: If _I_ managed to keep this kingdom standing after abruptly inheriting the throne at my father’s death…”

“Oh, I’m sure _I’ll_ do splendidly,” you mock, and he laughs out loud.

Suddenly, a messenger appears, stopping in front of the King. Thranduil takes a small scroll from him before the messenger leaves. Unscrolling it, he reads. His eyes widen while reading it, and you glance over his hand to see what the note says:

 

_In Minas Tirith, beginning of summer 3019, Third Age_

_To my father, the King_

_Ada, I am most grateful of hearing the news that the realm is safe. I grieve the lives that were lost in its defense, and hope to meet the passed souls once more._

_I have also my own story to tell, but I fear the poor bird would not be able to carry such a novel to you. For now, let it be told that I am in perfect health, and enjoying my time. I may pay you a visit later. We are first set to travel to Helm’s Deep - by we, I mean myself and Gimli, son of Glóin. I trust you knew his father, as he and his companions spent some time in your dungeons.  
_

_May you be well_

_Legolas  
_

You chuckle. Knowing that the matters between elves and dwarves haven’t been quite so smooth for ages, you imagine Thranduil might be quite in shock to learn that his son is travelling with one. _  
_

But you find yourself wrong, as he raises his gaze to you. Shrugging, he huffs with a hint of irritation and carelessly tosses the scroll on the table.

“Well, who am _I_ to judge my son’s companions?” He lifts his eyebrow, grinning at you as he grabs his goblet of wine, toasting it with yours. “Let us hope for their companionship to be far more peaceful than that of mine and his father.” 

“Well, well, it would appear you have allowed yourself to become far more lenient… What happened to the headstrong, ill-tempered King I encountered on my first day in this kingdom?” You smirk at him, and get caught off guard when he leans forward, stealing a kiss from your lips.

“I believe he got cured of his blindness, and found something worth following, something that would guide him to happiness…” He breathes, after releasing you.

“Which reminds me…” He reaches inside his pocket, taking out something and placing it in your palm. You open your hand, and look at the pendant.

The star glitters in the light, clinking slightly against its chain as you turn towards him. “This…”

“It is yours now. You may do whatever you will with it.” 

“But… Are you sure you wish to see me wearing this?”

“In all honesty? At first, I was certain that I should discard of it. But then…” He takes the chain from your hands. “I realized it serves as a reminder.” 

“A reminder of what?” You’re puzzled, as he smiles at you and proceeds to attach the chain around your neck.

“That, no matter how dark the world appears at times, there is always something to hold on to. And how everything will be fine in the end.” He presses his forehead briefly against yours, as you bite back tears of emotion that threaten to overflow you.

“Now”, he continues, “I would like to have the first dance with my wife, if you grant me with the pleasure?” He raises, offering his hand to you with a daring smile on his lips.

“Let us give them something to remember”, you reply with a laugh, taking his hand with grace as he leads you in the midst of his people. 

_No…._ You correct yourself. _Our people._

_Perhaps I have a place where I belong after all._

_\- End of chapter 27-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for taking so long! There is still an epilogue on the way, so it won’t end just yet. Hope you’ll stick around for that, and thank you for reading my story this far <3


	28. All the Time in the World

Thousands of years later _  
_

  
_A small human child prances through the woods, occasionally stopping to look around her, her curious eyes following the birds chirping high above her in the trees, and inhaling the smell of flowers that are blooming everywhere. She smiles, giggling to herself, as she continues forwar_ d.

_You see a slight resemblance of young Mary on her face, in the arch of her eyebrows and the curve of her smile. No wonder though, she is Mary’s descendant after all. Of what generation, you have no idea. You lost count already decades ago.  
_

_Her happy singsong voice reaches your ears, and you can’t help but smile. That is when she notices your presence. Her big eyes widen, as she takes in the form of you in front of her. You give her a graceful nod, as you hear steps coming from behind you.  
_

_Thranduil steps next to you, taking your hand while the little girl watches you two in awe. For a fleeting moment, she stands still, before she does a quick curtsy, and runs away._

_“Adorable creatures, always so fascinated by us.”_

_“They probably take us for some woodland spirits these days”, Thranduil says, his expression a mixture of playfulness and distaste._

_“Ah, and I know just how much you fancy that,” you smirk. Long ago, on a time before you two had even met, a certain dwarf king had called him “a woodland sprite” in front of not only his own people but also a significant amount of human townsmen. The mock name had sort of lingered, although no one had been foolish enough to use it in his presence._

_“Then again, are we so different from the spirits after all?” You wonder, as you raise your hand towards the sun, regarding the way how the rays of light already shine through your skin, making you appear slightly see-through.  
_

_That is the destiny of the elves who remain, and do not leave for the Undying Lands. After thousands and thousands of years, their soul would slowly start to consume their body, their physical form, and cause them to fade from the sight of humans.  
_

________✽ ✽ ✽_ _ _ _ _ _ _  
_

_It had been a conscious choice. You had heard the stories, prophecies of what would eventually happen. Strangely enough, you hadn’t felt any fear - not even on that moment when you had noticed the effect of it for the first time, when the hand you had rested against Thranduil’s chest hadn’t appeared quite as solid as it was supposed to. He had noticed similar effects, but hadn’t been scared either._

_“Well, I suppose if this keeps evolving, I can soon sneak up on the guards undetected and catch them if they slumber while standing on duty”, he had said dryly, unmoved by the way he could see the outlines of his brooch through your intertwined fingers. It had made you laugh, despite the fact that there were no more guards to lecture._

_Most of the elves of Middle Earth had left, one by one. Lord Celeborn had stayed for a while after lady Galadriel’s departure, arranging matters and taking care of anything that still needed to be resolved. But eventually, he and his household had left as well._

_You and Thranduil had allowed the willing to leave your kingdom with them, as you had had no expectations for others to remain but yourselves. Yet a surprising amount had, in fact, stayed, for the same reasons you did. Although the realm was no longer what it had been thousands of years ago, you all shared a deep love for the lands, the forest you all called your home._

_Legolas had travelled to many corners of Middle Earth, occasionally visiting the realm. But even he, eventually, had wanted to depart. His companion, Gimli, had been permitted to sail to the Undying Lands, a gift so rare no other dwarf had received it before him. You both had been there to see them go, a moment both tender and bittersweet._

_“Do you think we made the right choice?” You ask, resting your head against Thranduil’s shoulder as you walk towards the edge of the forest. “To stay behind?”_

_“I made my mind long ago.” He wraps his arm around you, holding you close as you lean into him, savoring the warmth of him. “I cannot imagine leaving this place, as if I myself have become a part of it, growing roots of my own to set in this soil, caring for the land.”_

_“Nevertheless…” He raises your chin, looking you in the eye, “I could be locked away in the fiery pits of the late Mount Doom itself, and it wouldn’t matter, as long as we were together.”_

_You smile at him, but waver slightly. “Do you miss him? Legolas?”_

_“Sometimes.” He shrugs, giving you a bittersweet smile. “But he is free to live his life as he pleases, as am I. My life is here, and as long as he is happy, I am happy.”_

_“And… Who is to say we wouldn’t be able to meet again? No one has ever taken this path that we are on, so no one knows… I have faith that we shall see each other again… Some day. And that day will be full of celebration.” He chuckles before planting a soft kiss against your temple._

_Then, he asks: “Do you regret it? Staying here with me?”_

_“No.” You smile, stopping to look around you. “I suppose I, too, have grown too fond of this land…”_

_“This land is my heart…” Thranduil pulls you into a kiss, the sensation still making your knees weak, even after so many years spent together. As if you could never get enough of him._

_Once he lets you go, he whispers out the final words, breathing them against your lips, warm and loving:_

_“…and you are the true ruler of it.”  
_

________✽ ✽ ✽_ _ _ _ _ _ _  
_

 

The child comes running up the small hill towards an old man who sits on a rock, overseeing the forest, his back already bent with age. He regards the child’s expression, yet before he has time to say anything, the girl yelps:

“Grandpa! Grandpa! You will not believe what I saw! Remember when you told me about the folk that lives in the woods?!”

“Ah, you saw them, didn’t you?” He grabs his cane, raising to his feet.

“There were two of them! So tall and beautiful! And they had crowns!”

“Ah, those must’ve been the King and Queen in person, guardians of the forest. They walk the forest occasionally - you are lucky, for they do not show themselves for everyone. Only those they consider their allies, protectors of the forest.”

His granddaughter’s eyes are pleading, waiting to hear more of the beautiful folk of the forest she so dearly loves to hear about. He chuckles, and shares yet another story, one his own grandmother told him ages ago:

“On some nights, you may see them feasting in the woods, dancing around a bonfire.” He elaborates the story with his hands, swirling his crooked fingers as if dancing himself. “Make no noise and do not approach, or they will disappear at once, taking their bonfire with them. But if you stay silent and let them be, you may witness their beauty, hear the tunes of songs long forgotten by our bards, and see the dances no one knows the steps for.”

He places his hand on his granddaughter’s shoulder.

“They have taken care of the woods for so long. Now, it is time for us to do the same. Remember…” He lowers himself to her level, meeting her eyes, “Always honor the path you’re walking. For it is a great responsibility and honor… to be a guardian of the wild.”

The old man raises his gaze, his eyes still as sharp as they were in his youth. Right by the treeline, in the shadows, he sees the faint forms of an elaborately dressed couple, standing together under the cover of the branches.

He raises his hand slightly in a greeting. They answer in kind, bowing their crowned heads, before turning and becoming one with the forest once more.

 

                                                   _______~~_______ ✽ ✽ ✽ _ _ _ _ _ _ _~~_______

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my story!
> 
> Years ago, in 2015 to be exact, I had not seen any fics focused on the Battle Under the Trees / Battle of Mirkwood, more specifically the time period of Lord of The Rings, and started to piece together a story in my mind about it. It took quite some work, as I wanted to use the actual events from the books as much as possible, while threading through it with my own “seasoning”, so to speak *gigglesnort* I was also intrigued about the fact that it was never speficied what happened to Thranduil in the end, so I played with the idea of him remaining in Middle Earth, and experiencing some of the “fading” Tolkien wrote about.
> 
> The end result has now become this story, that I first started sharing in Tumblr, after several years of fighting with personal issues, pain and doubt. There was a year during which I didn’t write a single chapter. There was a true danger that it wouldn’t have gotten finished at all. But I’m happy that I picked it back up and continued. I do, after all, have a need for creating, whether it is through writing or all the other formats of creation, so I’m happy I didn’t let my inner demons stop me from finishing this.
> 
> Thank you for reading, commenting and liking my story. Your lovely comments really, really helped me to continue, whenever I was in doubt <3 As a creator, that is something that we appreciate enormously. The knowledge that there are people out there who enjoy what you do is one of the greatest feelings ever.


End file.
